Postscript
by Richard Banker
Summary: The last in this series. Seven years on after Journey's End, Nikki and Helen's precociously intelligent daughter makes her presence felt while their neighbours have teenage offspring problems. New challenges and new problems face the legal alliance, a new government waiting in the wings
1. Chapter 1

Little Rose carefully buttoned up her white school blouse with careful stubborn attention, looking carefully at her reflection in the ancient chest of drawers with attached mirror that she loved when the moment when Granddad first delivered it. It was an intriguing piece of furniture which contrasted with her cheery bright colours of her bedroom which always made her feel happy first thing in the morning. The comforting presence of Mummy and Nikki's movements in adjoining rooms reassured her that everything was normal in her world and, sure enough, Nikki peeped round the corner to smilingly ensure she wasn't being a lazybones. Rose knew she was expected to get ready for school just as Mummy and Nikki were getting ready for work. That was only fair, a much used word in her house.

Together, they ate muesli and milk from bright coloured cereal bowls on the large mahogany table whose interesting patterns and solid strength and rich colours fascinated the child. It wasn't necessarily that easy at school but grownups weren't to know that.

"Stewart Wade? Two names. Fancy you're special?" one of the girls had first sneered at Rose in the school playground at the start of the year last Autumn. A puzzled expression spread across Rose's face. To her, her name was perfectly natural as it came from both her mummies. It might have been a problem to these two girls who didn't know any better but she was above such considerations.

"It's one name. It's just spelt as two," she replied pertly, instantly throwing the other two girls into a state of confusion as they'd been told that two couldn't possibly be flicked away into another part of the playground figuring out these two girls as ones to avoid. That ploy kept her natural enemies off her back for a long time as they didn't know how to deal with this strange little girl.

The two women looked fondly at their daughter's fresh face and Helen improved on her carelessly casual handiwork by running a handy hairbrush through their daughter's tousled dark brown hair. The sharp-eyed girl spotted Nikki's brief smile that was tolerant and affectionate at the same time and knew that this little touch spelled out how much they loved her so she let herself be fussed over. She looked up at Nikki as she checked her watch with her familiar decisive gesture.

"Come on. It's time to roll," Nikki would say in her laconic fashion, casting an eye over the little girl's school was at moments like these that Rose accepted the presence of this quietly reassuring woman, dressed in her usual cool dark suit, softly modulated voice and loving smile which helped her feel secure along with her more conventional Mummy figure. She headed for the door to receive a farewell kiss from the taller woman while the front door was opened for her.

As she stepped out along the front path, a similar sight unfolded as their neighbours, Cassie and Roisin sheparded a tall lanky adolescent son hunched up inside his zipup coat and a smaller fresh faced girl. She pretended not to look as Michael irritably fended off a caring attempt by Roisin to make sure his shirt collar and tie were straight.

"What's wrong with Michael?" Rose asked, her concerned face turned upwards to Helen as their frioends and neighbours hurried on.

"It's complicated Rose," Helen started to say when she was stopped by the little girl's questioning gaze. "Tell you in the car," Helen added under her breath not being sure if their friends were in earshot. Already, she and Nikki were conscious of their daughter's solid presence in their life which kept them on their toes. Belatedly, Cassie called out and waved to them just before they got into their car.

Nikki kissed Helen briefly and then Rose on her cheek and headed for her silver Corsa, her pride and joy. Helen opened the side door for Rose of her own bright red Peugeot and they set off into the slow moving traffic of the school run.

"So why's Michael so grumpy these days? He didn't used to be," Rose persisted as soon as she saw from the body language of Mummy's profile that she was settled behind the wheel. Their journeys to and from school were often an occasion for conversations.

Helen laughed out loud at the little girl's blunt questioning as she sat in the passenger seat next to recalled how things had changed since she'd held her in her arms seven years ago at St Mary's hospital and how she'd wished for the next few years that Rose could speak so she could figure out what she wanted. She ruefully considered that the much vaunted quality of intuition, especially in her circles, was too much like hard bloody work to deploy all the time, especially when she'd been on maternity leave. There was a complete turnaround when Rose learnt to speak, vaulting through the baby talk phase with ridiculous ease and her favourite grown-up word was "why?" She and Nikki ought to have been delighted by their daughter's precocious display of intelligence as an abstract proposition. Instead, this bundle of exploding ideas kept them both on their toes to explain everything and anything and they grasped at the limits of their knowledge to live up to their implicit resolution not to impose ideas on her just because they were older. It was definitely hard work and only in quieter moments, they figured out that they were only encountering themselves as they came out of a revolving door.

"That's a good question," Helen said at last while Rose waited patiently."Michael's always been a good boy till recently. Becoming a teenager isn't easy."

"Why mummy?" Rose instantly interjected, a response Helen had expected as soon as her words had escaped her lips, knowing she'd fluffed her explanation."He used to be like a big brother to me."

True, Helen thought ruefully. She remembered how she and Nikki, Cassie and Roisin and their children had been round each other's houses for so long like one big happy extended family and given each other emotional sustenance. She could picture how clearly how Michael sat on the floor with Rose assembling Lego constructions with childlike concentration. Now he acted standoffish and elected to go up to his bedroom with his loud music rather than socialise like he used to do and this had hurt Rose.

"He still likes you. Anyone would," ventured Helen as the right words formulated themselves more easily than before."He might feel the odd one out amongst his schoolfriends. At his age, you suddenly start worrying too much about what people think of you but not in the best way."

Rose silently digested these thoughts for a while. Glancing sideways while she was negotiating the last few streets before school, Helen wondered if another sharp question was headed her way. Instead, there was a faraway look in the little girl's eyes as her active mind responded to whatever was around her, chiefly her friends next door and the day ahead that awaited her.

Whenever it came time for Niamh to go to school, an increasing feeling of dread set in with every step she took down the front path with Mummy, Cassie and Michael first thing in the morning. It reminded her that they didn't have much of a family anymore, especially when they drove off for school. It concentrated them in a metal casing from which she couldn't escape and it was all Michael's fault. It wasn't Mummy or Cassie's fault as she felt unbearably attuned to their distress as Michael's selfish brattishness swallowed up everything good in their world. Everything was starting to revolve round him , his moods, what he liked or didn't like and her unassuming nature got relegated to the sidelines especially as nothing got properly discussed. The shrugged off parental gesture was just the start of the daily torture which was destined to be repeated all over was aged eleven and he was fourteen, a lifetime's difference away.

"I've got my recorder concert next Tuesday evening at half past seven," Niamh said proudly as she handed Cassie her headed notepaper from the middle school she attended. Michael was in a different league altogether at secondary school with new friends and new horizons she wasn't expected to understand. "You can come too Michael if you like," she added hastily, trying to fend off her brother's automatic sneers which badly concealed his jealousy. These days, her brother's moody hypersensitivity interfered with the closeness they'd once enjoyed and she struggled to pitch her conversation right. Surely, all she needed to do was just say it?

"We'd be delighted to come and support anything you guys are doing," Casie interjected with forceful pleasure to head off her partner's overdeveloped sense of guilt. It distressed her that Michael's teenage hormones were causing Roisin's Catholic guilt to resurface. It had been a fault in her that had marred their early relationship when they'd lived care of Her Majesty's Prison Larkhall when the blond-haired woman's own carelessly irresponsible not to say illegal financial scam had become unstuck, the other half of their early problems.

"Sounds boring to me. Why should we put ourselves out for her?" he sneered at last.

Cassie was on the point of ripping aside her hard won self- disciplined restraint and verbally blasting Michael into the back of beyond and possibly right out of this universe when Roisin suddenly slammed on the brakes, wildly swerved into the the side of the road, accompanied by an aggressive horn blast from the car behind. When the shocked carload finally recovered their senses, Cassie's most abiding visual image was of her partner's rigid intensity, of inexpressible feelings which were bottled up and going nowhere.

First there was Aiden and now there is Michael, a tape loop kept repeating itself in the Irishwoman's frazzled mind as she gripped the steering wheel tightly even when there was now no cause to do so. I married him years ago when I was naive and didn't know better. I remember the remote church in Ireland and all our families sitting in their pews watching proudly. I bore him two children as I was supposed to do but I really wanted to, first Michael and then Niamh and moved with him to England to help his career. Suddenly from out of nowhere, I fell in love with the woman I worked for and sought to recreate a happy family with her as soon as we got out of prison and put my ingrained beliefs behind me or so I thought. Now God is punishing mew throught Michael's reproaches as I must be a bad mother. I must be guilty.

"Roache, please listen to me," Cassie urged in her softest, gentlest manner possible."You shouldn't beat yourself just because Michael is being unreasonable. After all, he's growing up so he should take responsibility for his own actions."

She laid her hand on her partner's shoulder who flinched to begin with and then she buried her face in her hands while the blond-haired woman gently soothed her. Her heart and Niamh's went out to the distressed woman. They tried to block out outside interference from the malignant presence besides them to rob them of their feelings. At the same time, Michael's negativity hurt them as he was part of the family even if he wanted to opt out of it and surround himself with , Niamh rose to the occasion.

"It's not fair of you to stop Mum and Cassie coming to my recorder recital. They'd do the same for you anytime."

"Who's stopping them?"Michael answered sulkily, flushing angrily at his sister's reproach. He hated feeling like a sulky child and inwardly felt guilty but he couldn't admit it.

"You want to. Would it make you feel happy if you did?" retorted the quick-witted Niamh. This made Cassie's spirits soar up inside her as she continued to carress her partner's shoulder - Niamh was starting to sound like her. Finally, Roisin started to peer out of her closed in world that her fingers represented. After all, she was driving their children to school and Cassie was patiently and lovingly waiting on her reaction and she checked her watch.

"We're running late for school," Roisin observed in a determined manner, turning round to look Michael straight in the eye." Cassie and I are definitely coming to your recorder recital Niamh. You're welcome to come with us Michael but if you invent some excuse to duck out, then it's your responsibility, not ours."

Michael lowered her eyes but said nothing at which Roisin suddenly realised that she'd stalled the car when she'd pulled into the side. She started up the engine, checked her rear view mirror and nipped out into a space in the long line of traffic. She'd won a brief victory but wondered how long would it last?

Helen followed the line of close packed traffic and swerved into the only space left in the line of parked cars similarly engaged. They were outside attractive Victorian brick buildings set on a slight rise. Round the school entrance, a cluster of children excitedly chattered away to each other.

"You've got your dinner money for the week?" Helen found herself anxiously asking. Rose rolled her eyes upwards at her mother in her unique manner. briefly fished out a neatly handwritten envelope and accepted an affectionate kiss on the side of her cheek from Mummy. Eyes rapidly darting round her surroundings, she picked out her best friend Emma nearby and ran helter-skelter in her direction, her bright turquoise anorak unzipped and her neat white socks already starting to slip a little. after they spun round in a mad hug, they played their irresistable favourite game of avoiding the cracks in the paving slabs or else the monster would take them. From inside the car, Helen looked on affectionately at her daughter's intense child-like concentration. Only a few minutes ago, she'd quizzed her and Nikki with her formidable imagination and now this sudden transformation. She fondly let the chatter of high-pitched children's voices wash over her before making her gradual transformation to businesswoman on her way to work.

Rose treated morning school assembly as her mental transition to her school existence where she let her thoughts wander while her lips mouthed the hymns as appropriate to avoid being caught out too many times for being inattentive. She loved the sad simple atmospheric songs like 'In the bleak midwinter' which held her imagination but she was more in danger of being told off when the hymns sang of unquestioning belief in a godlike figure so that her boredom let her become too detached from what was going on. She'd become too used to listening to conversations between Mummy and Nikki in their soft, beguiling tones even though her understanding of their content wavered in and out of perception. Of course, there were other times when one of other of them told her off for leaving her bedroom untidy as she had to hurtle out urgently for some urgent reason. That was and Helen always had to suppress their smiles behind stern exteriors to make their point as they saw Rose flounce away with dramatic gestures to finish off her tidying knew very well that Rose's rubber ball nature would bounce her back into being cheerful and smiling.

Once assembly had finished, she meekly followed all the other schoolchildren in filing out of the intimate Victorian era school hall with high arched wood ceiling along the narrow corridors to the form rooms. Rose headed to her desk which was on the extreme left side of the classroom and it housed her exercise books, scraps of notepaper with little doodles and the zip up case that housed pencils, biros and felt tips. This was her private space in this part of her world and she slid into a reverie, not conscious of the knowing nudges of two schoolgirls a couple of desks away. Suddenly, her daydreaming was interrupted as the English teacher greeted the class cheerily after allowing a little time for the class to settle down and for her to gather her own wits While she did so, it struch her that spread out before her, were a collection of citizens of the future, as diverse as any despite the school uniforms. There was the future conservatives who stuck to the stated words alongside the questioning minds that weren't complete with just learning their lessons. Rose Stewart-Wade was a prime instance of an alert mind that sponged up information only to reshape it in an unafraid fashion into her own compositions. She remembers the last parent's day when a motherly looking Helen Stewart and a cool looking Nikki Wade proudly came along to peroudly view their daughter's creations over the past year to sponge up on what she said of their offspring. It struck her then that Rose's unselfconsciousness was mirrored in her parent's manner. She glanced sideways at two girls near Rose who were not disposed towards her as they were jealous. Enough of that, she thought as she took out the pile of exercise books and passed down the class having marked the last set of homework. It was time for her to start the next lesson.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not for the first time that Coope caught sight of John Deed staring out of the window, deep in thought and this insistent image gave the ever watchful woman food for thought as she worked at her desk in the corner of the judge's chambers. They had worked together for a good number of years and they knew each other's ways down to the tiniest detail. The first years were tumultuous and he'd barely scraped his way through a series of attempts to oust him which wasn't helped by his wilful personal life which left Coope looking on as a long suffering but always protective mother figure but his platonic association with an attractive lesbian couple and their friends had a curiously stabilizing effect just when John gained recognition amongst his peers as an unflinching opponent of Great Britain PLC. Thus it was that a gradual shift in the balance of forces made for an easier life for them both in recent years.

It was true that Lawrence James and his sidekick, Tim Smithson continued to badger him from time to time in their tenacious but unimaginative fashion but all to no avail. His wily instincts and imagination sharpened up by years of experience in adversity gave him the upper hand along with support from the brethren. Even the Attorney General had to admit that he couldn't easily dispense with John's knack of cutting through the apparent complexities of contentious trials which gave him advantage over Judge Jackson, a young fogey and untalented reactionary and his clique of followers. The only judge with any talent that was on the government's side with any talent was the recently knighted Michael Niven. What gave him grounds for optimism was that the government that had once been so zealously imperious was visibly falling apart in the full glare of the tabloid press. The original Prime Minister with his glittering smile, cold blue eyes and ready punchlines had held the government together with his narrow-minded religious zeal and appetite for control but he had been unseated by a combination of the antiwar movement and lying one too many times for the public to swallow. His successor was a bully who hadn't the knack of keeping the parcel of rogues in line so their snarling and backbiting became intermittently public.

John got glimpses of unprompted cryptic asides first hand from periodically meeting his nearest point of contact, Sir Alan Peasemarsh. He was the Attorney General and John was sure that they were half meant for his ears and weren't accidental indiscretions. The normal circle of constraint against outsiders like himself was breaking down until one day, the man came straight out with expressing his feelings, a bizarre anomaly amongst the traditional products of stiff upper lip, public school educated patricians of his generation.

"You're lucky, John to be removed from the squalid world of politics as now practices. It makes me sometimes feel that rebellion has its uses,"he said without any preambles. John raised his eyes as a flood of shared memories raced past his consciousness.

"It seems only the other day when I was dubbed the baker's boy, the lone voice crying in the wilderness against the apparatus annexing our freedoms by stealth. Then Monty and Joseph came to share my point of view and the rest of the brethren followed suit. Now, I am gratified to hear that you too are leaning in our direction."

"Don't get me wrong," the elderly man answered, his face reddening slightly with embarrassment at his outburst and likewise combing his white hair off his ears."I believe in good order and good governance. It's just that the present administration..."

"...doesn't believe its own professed values, the ones we were all brought up to believe in," finished John for the other man, treading delicately amongst this man's conflicting emotions. It vividly reminded him of that day he found his old adversary, Sir Ian Rochester, sitting on a park bench, his head in his hands and going through a nervous breakdown. For all their past clashes, he was feeling the same sympathy that he had felt for Sir Ian and wondering how this scene would play out.

""You know the latest in our long running political soap opera," Sir Alan sped on as long suppressed contempt burst forth."You know why that frightful opportunist resigned as Minister for Social Security on a point of principle over the Prime Minister's leadership?"

John knew very well what politician he referred to and why Sir Alan couldn't bring himself to name him. He had first noticed and instantly disliked this young pipsqueak of a man from his first profile raising TV event as part of his job of keeping an eye on his enemies. He had spouted a stream of reactionary rhetoric that John was sure wasn't engaged with what passed for the man's brain. For the first time in his life John wondered if he was getting old as this man looked so young, so fresh out of school that John's first thought was that this vision the wrong side of the TV screen needed to stay behind in detention and write out a hundred times 'I must learn more about humanity." At the trailing end of the trajectory of John's thoughts that flashed past in an instant, he surmised that Sir Alan was steering the conversation towards emotional safety by talking of impersonal subjects. He'd often used the same device in the past before Helen and Nikki had straightened out his thinking.

"He's obviously cooked up this attempt to pull other politicians to resign with him in sympathy, pull down the Prime Minister who's clearly wobbling on his throne and take his place only his co-conspirators have ratted on him. No honour amongst thieves," John commented dryly.

"Precisely so but Haughton's still there. He won't profit from it as the government is already a slow motion car crash waiting to happen. Needless to say, don't quote me on any of this," Sir Alan replied, a curtain of caution closing down on his expression. Their meeting was clearly at an end but wasn't going to be their last, of that John was sure as he walked on in a reflective frame of mind.

If John was becoming conscious of the passing of the years, Joseph Channing being his ex-father in law and good friend, should have been further advanced down that road. Nevertheless, his strong will and ageless experience fought to maintain his presence despite his reduced hours of work as his bluff presence and mischievous personality permeated the Law Courts. He felt that Neil Haughton was a miserable old man in his mean spirits and narrow outlook on life. What was such a man who drank mineral water compared with a man like himself who became aflame on the finest malt whisky?

From time to time, George maintained her Wednesday night visits to him along with her partner, the equally glamorous, contrastingly brunette, Alice Swinburne. For a start, it was a family tradition that extended as far back as her marriage to John and the presence of abundant female glamour made Joseph feel he was still young. People forget that a man of his advanced age wouldn't look back on the reflection of his aged self, the deep carved lines and white hair but would still feel the ardent spirits inside that had led him to take a smack or two against the Establishment over the years. George's visit served the additional purpose of keeping a close eye on his health whilst still believing that Daddy was immortal.

"So glad to see you've given up smoking," George said pertly, a slight smirk on her face at one of her successful campaigns. It was in her nature to have her cake and eat it as she passed her silver cigarette case to Alice after lighting up herself."You look healthier already."

"That doesn't stop you and Alice smoking like chimneys. What about the danger of passive smoking?" Joseph retorted, rumbling with laughter at his daughter's bare-faced cheek.

"What indeed?" George replied in a slow deliberately annoyong manner which set off Alice into an attack of the was part of their banter where the dark-haired woman was content to be an onlooker."Alice and I can smoke. You can't."

"I'll turn to drink instead," Joseph said under his breath with a wicked grin as his way of repaying in coin.

"Turn to drink? Explain yourself daddy," George retorted deliberately gesturing towards the sideboard with its display of a couple of malt whisky silver decanters. This set the two of them into a full on cut and thrust rapier routine with words until Alice intervened.

"Come on, peace you two," she said, automatically clapping her hands and Joseph turned round in perfect unison to face Alice with the identical expression of faint bemusement on their faces.

"You must forgive us Alice. My daughter and I were indulging in a perfectly friendly bout of verbal sparring. Besides, she is living with you in a state of wedded bliss so the only relief for her combative instincts is at the bar and jousing with me," Joseph said with a rich chuckle permeating every syllable.

"You don't get away with it that easily daddy. You're just as bad as me," retorted George in pretend anger which was belied by the broad grin that spreading across her face. Joseph put her arm round George's shoulders and hugged her with evident pride while Alice Looked on affectionately.

"I look forward to these Wednesday soirees when I am kept company by two attractive women," Joseph said with a twinkle in his eye as he poured drinks for his guests.

"Daddy you shouldn't have such thoughts, especially at your age. I bet it's all John's fault," reproved George as she made fine adjustments to the place settings at the deep coloured mahogany table with lace mats and shiny silver cutlery.

"You mean he's leading me off the straight and narrow? He's been doing that for years. Once, I was a true blue Conservative, thinking that the playing fields of Eton were character forming so that a gentleman's word was always his bond. I feel differently as no doubt you and Alice also think."

"You're deliberately mixing things up,"George started to protest but her sense of smell detected the mouthwatering food being served and told her that dinner was being distracted her from whatever point she was trying to make and she and Alice surrendered to the pleasures of the table.

"So Michael Niven is in the news having been elevated to a knighthood," drawled George as she scanned her father's copy of the Times which had lain on the side table next to where she and Alice wewre sitting. She remembered the capacious sofa from when she was a little girl as it made her feel safe. Alice was peeking over her shoulder and sharing their reading.

The low lights reflected softly off the silver candlebra whose ornamental curves had taken Alice's attention while they were dining and now they were comfortably seating and digesting the dinner.

"You want to spoil my dinner with an acute attack of indigestion?" Joseph retorted warmly before his brief irritation subsided in a derisive grin."It doesn't surprise me. After all, he's ingratiated himself for years before this rotten administration so he's received his Judas' thirty pieces of silver. He knows well enough that the rest of us won't be impressed by such cheap baubles. It's not as if we're in the same competition. I'm content with the way my life has turned out, especially in turning away from the path Michael Niven has followed. Most of all, I am blessed with a wonderful daughter who has given me John Deed's fine company, a granddaughter who is worth all the white hairs from her pranks over the years and last but not least her charming partner, Alice Swinburne."

The dark-haired woman flushed with pleasure at the compliment from this elderly but sharp-witted man which contrasted with the bleak negativity she had received from her own parents. She loved the feel of this family occasion and basked in the warmth of feeling of the obvious love between George and her father.

"It's a pleasure to be here, she murmured. She had been casting her gaze round the pictures on the walls as she ate her dinner, the majority being of George through the ages. The first picture that caught her eye was of a fresh-faced, teenage George wearing a summery dress and a wide brimmed straw hat slanted slightly backwards so her long hair fell either side of her tanned face and brilliant blue eyes, expressing all the promise of her combined beauty. Further along the line was the formal wedding photo with John and George of her in traditional weiled white dress and him in respendant grey top hat and tails. Last of all, an interior studio photograph showed Alice's left hand slipped demurely into George's right hand while they smiled brightly into the camera gaze. Alice wore her favourite white lacy blouse and black leather trousers while George was splendid in a low cut golden long flowing dress. It was as good as a wedding picture, they felt with deep satisfaction when they saw the prints and they were overjoyed when Joseph particularly requested a copy of it. Everyone was happy in their world, Alice concluded until her mind jumped off the track for no clear reason.

"So how is John getting on these days?" she suddenly asked.

George and Joseph exchanged sideways glances but were paralysed to act until the embarrassment of time passing prompted George to take it on herself to tell the truth.

"Professionally, her's as brilliant as he's ever been and politically he can't be touched and the establishment knows it. Besides, they're preoccupied with the government slow motion car crash waiting to happen. Personally, I know he's struggling," George said. Her bright enthusiasm trailing off at the end as she started to struggle for the right words.

"When it comes to relationships, John has always been restless and complicated. During my marriage to John, Jo Mills was the other woman. After John and I broke up, he did the same thing to Jo Mills as he did to me so it's no wonder she refused to commit herself to him. Throughout it all, Jo and I were his emotional security and he had the illusion that we'd always be around. It's one of life's ironies that our friendship with him became better after I dumped Neil Haughton and turned to women and Jo followed suit. He took this very well on the surface but, deep down, it destabilized him,"George said in slow deliberate tones.

"But what about Kristine? I thought they are eminently suited," remonstrated Alice.

"Perhaps they are too day one, Kristine made it very plain that she's not interested in permanent relationships, either with men or women," countered George .

"What?" exploded Joseph. Up till now , Joseph had felt squeamish in the presence of the unashamed female dissection of human foibles and this was the final straw. Men wouldn't talk this way.

"Daddy, this is the twenty-first century," George said in soothing tones, her kindly reassuring smile trying to convey that this was all perfectly natural.

"Hmph, I found the nineteen sixties a period of total anarchy when all I held dear was being challenged," Joseph retorted as his combative instincts were being roused. He was in the mood for a good argument.

"So John's been getting more than he bargained for and she won't be necessarily available for him when he wants it," interjected Alice in her most soothing deliberate tones designed to conjure up peace and tranquillity. It stopped things dead and Joseph mulled over this interesting observation.

"That's John all over. Blessed if I can see an answer to this conundrum," Joseph said in pessimistic tones. This cast a pall of gloom over the companionship and the comfortable glow in the room which held precious memories for her and the world felt very dark around them. George felt compelled to do something about it.

"In a lot of other ways, John has come a long way and changed for the better. Kristine's not that far away from him. At least he's honest and not selfish in his relationships. He's learnt a lot from Helen and Nikki, particularly Nikki. They used to see quite a bit of John but they've got their time cut out in bringing up their daughter and pursuing their careers. It's down to Daddy and I to keep a friendly eye on John together with Jo Mills when she has the time," spoke George forcibly with a little more confidence than she felt. Immediately the room warmed up and they sensed the golden glow in their world. George snuggled up to Alice, resting her head on the taller woman's shoulder while Joseph looked on approvingly.


	3. Chapter 3

Frankly Helen didn't mind admitting to herself her pleasure in being a working woman once again as she drove off to work after dropping Rose off at school. She'd enjoyed her years as a full time mother and had made the most of it. A series of mental images flipped through her mind of seeing Rose develop so fast from helpless baby, to toddler with a rapidity so that the only certainty was constant change. She pictured having to move like lightning when Rose had learnt to crawl and make a determined bee line for the half open sideboard door to investigate its contents with her typical thoroughness and sense of purpose.

Now she was back at work picking up her old job where she'd left off. She knew she wasn't in the same race as before her maternity break. She and Nikki had two careers going for them, the second being the unpaid vocation as mother to Rose. Nikki was working energetically for the Howard League of Penal Reform while Helen had resumed her previous job as local office manager of G E International, a firm specializing in computer products and how she'd secured the position was the sort of improbable miracle that very occasionally took place. As she moved closer to her place of work, a smile of satisfaction spread across her face as she recalled the generous good fortune that had unexpectedly opened up for her. On a similar car journey on a rainy Autumn day, she'd gloomily considered that the odds were stacked against her getting the job even though she'd been phoned up about the vacancy. A number of years spent as a full time mother had left her feeling mentally befogged, hopelessly slowed down back in the work situation and feeling that her life had revolved around endless washing, cooking and cleaning and thinking and talking about childhood concerns. Most of all, her preferred hours of work of twenty five hours a week didn't fit the badly stretched thirty seven hours a week she'd slogged through before Rose was born. Her mathematical mind couldn't duck this insoluble conundrum. Two hours later, all was changed.

"Tony Foster. That's brilliant,"Helen exclaimed with pleasure as the name of her assistant was divulged by the regional manager she' d known an infinity of years ago who had a twinkle in his eye from the very start of the interview. The CV he'd passed across the teak interview desk enable her to instantly place the man as Nikki's old workmate from her first office job after leaving Larhkall Prison. He'd also given vital evidence at Karen Betts trial when Fenner had framed her for a hit and run murder. All at once, a swirl of memories eddied upwards from the depths of Helen's memory where they'd lain undisturbed for years. She pictured this nervous young man suddenly grow in stature as he'd found the courage to bite back at the opposing barrister as he'd given evidence and joined the group of strong minded females at the pub. She and Nikki had last seen him at a Tori Amos concert that they and the rest of the Chix gang had gone to and both of them had wondered what had happened to him.

"You know him?" the regional manager asked in surprised tones. He'd pencilled in the man to work for Helen as he was amenable and for no other reason.

"He and my partner Nikki used to work together when they were lowly office workers. The two of them got on like a house on fire and I met him when he gave evidence when a friend of ours was wrongly accused of a hit and run murder," Helen blurted out without any contrivance. Blinking, the man figured out that, if there would be a good working relationship, far be it for him to question it.

On her first day at work, she'd blinked her way through the impossibly glittering and shiny world she'd entered and wasn't to know that the power-dressing new blue suit she wore wasn't designed to intimidate her fellow workers but to bolster her self-esteem. She really felt like a fish out of water as she reached out to engage her work instincts but she was painfully conscious of feeling anaesthetized. She shook hands with all the staff that would work for her and painfully sought to try and learn a whole new set of faces and names before finally locking eyes with Tony who, in his typically self-effacing way, was the last in the row. She saw through his reserved manner and she knew that this office move would suit him down to ground. She murmured to him to show her round her office which was exactly the same room as before but that it was bound to be affected by the passage of time.

Once inside the semi-glazed door, Helen and Tony grinned freely at each other and she gestured to him to take a seat in the open area.

"So come on, Tony, what's been happening in your life and how did you land up here?"

Tony rattled away in comfortably with a shade more confidence than when they'd last met but otherwise the man hadn't changed. For his part, Tony was interested in the way Helen had sketched in brief details of her own life and Nikki's and the conversation merged into Tony giving her a run down of the way this part of the job operated and Helen's pertinent questions as old memories came flooding back. The job wasn't greatly different and Tony was making her feel right at home.

"God, my mouth is dry," Helen exclaimed as the sustained talking took effect. Tony turned to the mineral water dispenser at the side of them and served two plastic container measures. As they stood up to drink, she impulsively hugged the man that she now knew hadn't changed in all these years.

"You'll give the rumour mongers a great start Helen," Tony said in his cryptic fashion, unfazed by his boss's affectionate greeting and physical close contact or the part glass paneled door to her office which gave full view of their intimacy.

"That was ten per cent of the reason I did it. The rest of it was to say how glad I am for us to meet again," Helen answered, a wicked smile spreading across her face.

"You know that the same rumour factory was sounding off about the scary lesbian who was going to take over the show when your predecessor was given the push. The guy couldn't organise a pissup in a pub,"Tony pursued without thinking. The expression on Helen's face darkened as she had supposed that she'd be remembered for the conscientious way she'd worked and not because of some stupid homophobic label.

"As bad as that? Things must have changed for the worse round here. It looks like something I need to straighten out," she responded dryly, her hackles starting to rise. There were half conscious connotations of G Wing governor revisited.

"Only a few of them. They're really not worth worrying about,"Tony answered, feeling guilty that he'd been so outspoken and seeking to make amends. Helen caught the drift of thought and started to relax again. She realised that she wasn't the young prison Governor only just out of her fast track promotion and a few years into her career but she was older and wiser, more broadly based. Being a mother meant by definition that she was capable of dealing with any curveball that life threw at her. Tony looked at her and nostalgic memories of her and Nikki came coursing back into his consciousness.

"Even if we hadn't met at that trial, I'd be sure to know you from hearing Nikki talk so much about you. You're just as smart as Nikki so I must be an open book to you."

"Right you are Tony. Let's shake on it," Helen grinned back at him. Tony reflected on the fact that his boss had a strong grip, something unusual for his experience of women. He immediately set to work to explain the set-up in the office and to chat about their shared duties.

Sally-Anne tottered downstairs in answer to the plopping sound of the mail onto the doormat, a towel wrapped round her long, damp hair and a dressing gown tied round her waist. To her mind, it promised to be functional mail at best like invoices and bank statements and otherwise tiresome junk mail.

"Don't worry babes. I'll keep the bed warm for both of us," sang out Trisha lazily from above her. Left to herself, the fair-haired woman only considered facing the post on the doormat till they were ready to get up but a conscientious streak in Sally-Anne prompted her to ensure the outside world was safe. Downstairs, the dark-haired woman laughed softly at this beguiling invitation and resolved to flip through the post and get back to what came natural. Even after the years they'd shared their lives, the sultry lift in her lover's clear voice stirred a flutter in her stomach.

"Be back in a bit. It looks like the usual crap," Sally-Anne called out to carry her voice up the staircase."Wait a minute, there's an interesting letter here. It's from the London Pride Organising Committee sweetheart. They want us at the next meeting and want us to have a special Chix float for all we've done for the movement. Hey this is incredible," exclaimed Sally enthusiastically.

Trisha sighed at her partner's well-meaning enthusiasm. Sally should have known that she put on her business head later on in the day while her libido could be aroused at any time.

"That's wonderful. It's great that the community want our help," she exclaimed as part of her mind registered the high compliment paid to them. Up till then, they'd let others do the organising as neither of them were committee people by nature and they'd contributed to London Pride by turning out with their friends to the event. However, her hormones kicked in."We'll deal with it later on. I really need your help right now."

Sally-Anne shook her head fondly and chuckled as she laid the letters on the side. The sexual plea in her lover's voice was irresistible and the side of her mind that was inclined to plan forward towards the future gave way to the pleasures of the moment. She padded upstairs and, on entering their bedroom, she was entranced to see a naked Trisha with a come hither look on her face who had folded a corner of the duvet to one side.

"Come here babes," the fair-haired woman sexily commanded.

"But I've just had a shower.I feel all clean and fresh," Sally Anne replied playfully.. Trisha pretended to roll her eyes heavenwards as she thought up a brilliant answer to that problem.

"There's an easy answer to that one. After I've had my wicked way with you, we take a shower together,we'll have a sexual encore and both end up clean and fresh."

Sally-Anne advanced with a smile on her face as she loved being seduced by her lover all over again. Trisha's nimble fingers unwound the tie on the other woman's dressing gown and slipped it back off Sally's shoulders to drop on the floor to be joined with the towel from her head. Softly and lovingly, Trisha placed her hands on her lover's shapely behind and kissed her stomach several times. Sally's hands stroked the other woman's long fair hair and passed on to her neck and shoulders. This was a moment both women loved as much as anything as they started out slow and easy so their lovemaking took time. With a quick grin, Sally eased the fair haired woman down on her back and straddled her.

"My you're being the strong one," drawled Trisha, loving the feel of the dark-haired woman on top of her.

"Only as much as you want to let me," answered Sally-Anne softly.

The two women moved into each other's arms with sighs of pleasure and soon they were both gently floating on a rising tide of emotional desireand physical affection. They ardently kissed and touched each other as if they'd been separated for months. Trisha ran her fingers through the other woman's long damp hair and onto the soft moist skin of her back as their soft kisses became deeper and hungrier. This was what they each wanted as they sighed and murmured with great satisfaction. Finally, Sally Anne moved slightly to one side and her right hand started to lovingly caress her lover's flank. Trisha gave a gasp of pleasure as she knew that this was the prelude to Sally stroking the inside of her thighs, something she particularly loved. Finally, a smile spread across the face of the dark-haired woman as her fingers entered Trisha and their rhythms coaxed Trisha's hips to rock back and forth as her desires boiled up inside of them to a delirium of pleasure and over the edge into the climax she'd been wanting all this morning.

Two or three hours later, two indistinct shapes staggered out of a steamed up shower and flopped back onto the bed. They were swathed in dressing gowns and towels wrapped round their heads.

"Can you guess why I've avoided like the plague going down the gym?" Sally Anne said playfully as she lay on her back laughing softly. She felt physically exhausted but a lovely lazy replete feeling coursing round her system.

"Let me guess. You hate being bossed around by lycra clad PE teachers and wasting energy on cycling machines going nowhere fast," teased Trisha, touching her lover on her nose and snuggling up close."Or is it that hours of thoroughly satisfying lustful sex with all the acrobatics involved are much more fun and burn off the calories? We've really been doing each other a favour, babes."

The two women burst into delighted laughter and they hugged each other affectionately. The white aura was wrapped around them along with a shared intimacy and sense of purpose.

Three quarters of an hour later, a bare footed Trisha was working at their computer, dressed in a sky blue T-shirt and white trousers while Sally-Anne leant over her shoulder. Just for once, the fair-haired woman was not taking too much notice of her partner's figure hugging blue jeans and short-sleeved white shirt which showed how much of a mission she was on.

"You really want to know everything about every Pride event there ever was even though you and Nikki first started this club way back when and celebrated it in not so many words?" Sally-Anne observed wryly. That made Trisha laugh and sit back from her studies on the computer screen.

"You know how much hard work we've put into our club so you can imagine how much more work it took for Nikki and I to get it off the ground in the first place. We didn't have the time to think about politics, we just did it,"mused Trisha, staring into the distance as memories came flooding back."When you came on the scene, so did John Deed and he got us to take up causes over court cases one of those being yours. I suppose this letter has reminded me that we ought to be more out and proud on the streets and not just in Chix."

"I've got a few interesting ideas," Sally-Anne said mysteriously which caused Trisha to turn and face her partner with a questioning smile on her face. Her curiosity had been roused.


	4. Chapter 4

Seven years ago, the Wade family had had high hopes that at last it was united after years of fractured estrangement. Nikki had effectively become a non-person after being expelled from boarding school all those years ago. Nikki and her brother John had finally had a long intense discussion at their parent's house and had resolved their years of conflict. This had been inflamed by being on opposite sides in high profile court cases when public praise for Nikki's verbal proficiencies from judges and barristers trod on his sensitivities. This reconciliation had coincided with the moment when his suppressed feelings of oppression by the ruthless law firm he'd worked for finally broke surface and the chance he came to jump ship to Claire Walker's rival firm. As Nikki and John had reflected on this momentous change, they had been released from their conflicted emotions which had disappeared into the ether. The initial experiences for the Wade family had been joyfully overwhelming and liberating

As Helen drove along smoothly in her Peugeot, she remembered eagerly empathising with her adopted family's desire to let the good times roll. While her automatic pilot kept her road senses in order, an ironic twist of her mouth combined with her wide open green eyes staring into the distance while she relived the complicated set of events that led to the present.

She could remember the first invitation for them to come over to John's house as if it were yesterday. Nikki had danced excitedly round the house after John had phoned her up. A busy four months had passed since the grand reconciliation when all of them had time to spare. She'd clipped the six months old Rose into the brand new special car seat in the back of the Peugeot, loaded up the car boot with all the paraphenalia of baby accoutrements and cheerfully bowled off down the road, heading for the leafy glades of Epsom. This cheerfulness had lasted right up till they pulled up at the large nineteen thirties mock-Tudor house, gone into the front room and they had felt as if cold water had been unexpectedly splashed into their faces.

They hadn't expected this reaction after basking in approval from Nikki's parents. Nikki's mother had openly fussed over Rose from day one and even Nikki's father had let his little finger be grasped by Rose's determined fist and he'd progressed to kneeling on the floor with the little girl's Lego kit. Nikki had watched him grinning broadly as this was a big time lapse in his customary dignity. Helen had received pride of place from the start as birth mother and she had decided that there was something in old-fashioned customs after all once they'd been suitably adjusted. At this house, John Wade had extended his obvious warmth of welcome in his handshake but this had contrasted with the cold wall of disapproval from the woman in the armchair. Too late, they'd realised their mistaken assumption that Gill Wade had followed suit in coming round as John had. They were further confused by strange looks from the conventionally well-dressed seven year old boy and the ten year old girl. Nikki and Helen had exchanged puzzled glances as after all, their lifestyle was perfectly normal, wasn't it?

"We haven't seen you for a long time. It's tea time but mind you don't smoke," she said in cold, disapproving tones.

"It's all right Gill. I've given up smoking and Helen and I are quite fond of tea these days," Nikki had put in with a conciliatory smile, biting back the obvious crack that her sister in law was behind the times.

"Gill's taking time to get used to changes in family relationships," John had replied apologetically as a waft of chill air had swirled behind the closing living room door.

As the afternoon had worn on, Nikki's large heart had gone out to her brother as he had made a gallant attempt to be hospitable while Gill had sought to drag everyone's spirits down. He had even played with little Rose and a slow smile had spread across his face as she warmed to his presence.

"So why have you come back into our lives Nikki?" Gill had said abruptly out of nowhere as she had poured the tea with an air of social obligation. She was using Crown Derby china, more delicate than the mugs the two women had been used to handling so it made them nervous. That visual image had stuck in their minds as typifying the occasion.

"For the sake of the family. That's what they're there for," Nikki had said drily.

"John may have changed his mind about your kind of lifestyle but I haven't. I can still remember seeing your name being splashed across the tabloids when you murdered that policeman,"Gill had continued, as narrow-minded anger had started to build up inside her. It had gone through John like a knife and his eyes had locked with Helen's. She had known how constrained he was so she had felt called on to make the collective move first.

"Not in front of the children Gill," Helen had broken in sternly."Grown-ups should set an example. We don't intend to let our baby be brought up in an atmosphere of anger and upset. Children pick up on these things."

"John and I have spent far too many wasted years apart from each other and I don't see why you should come between us," weighed in Nikki in calm measured tones.

The combined interjections had pushed Gill temporarily onto the defensive, especially as Helen's words resonated with what her own mother had always told her. Her default position was to talk nicely but work more deviously to get her way. She'd never failed to steer her husband in the right direction in the past but his recent change of job hadn't been her idea but one which he'd foisted on her.

"I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding. You must understant that I've been brought up in a traditional family and the values that go with it. Others might see me as being a bit inflexible but that's not wrong. You have to stick to your guns or everything falls apart, especially in bringing up children. You see enough of the world going wrong on the xix o clock news."

Bullshit, bullshit, thoughts boiled behind faces that felt as it they were cracking in keeping up polite smiles for John's sake. He had known that his sister's mind flashed immediately back to when she'd been first imprisoned and he had seen the two women struggling to remain civil for his sake. He had felt called upon at last to make a stand after all these years. He'd made enough compromises in his life and look where they'd got him.

"I don't quite agree with you Gill. I've not really disowned my upbringing. It's just that Mr and Mrs Middle England aren't necessarily good and neither trendy permissive lefties have to be bad. I've come across too many who pass themselves off as patriotic conservatives. They are out for their own good, way too cynical and ruthless for my taste. That's why I jumped ship from my old law firm. Besides, Nikki and Helen believe in family life as much as we do and they're traditional enough in their own ways. We all have more in common than you might think."

"You would say that, wouldn't you," Gill had muttered peevishly, rattling her cup and saucer ominously.

It was at this moment that Rose had started crying after having been crawling happily over the living room carpet. Everyone save Gill had known that the unpleasant atmosphere had caused this. Helen had immediately reached out for their offspring and had started rocking and shush shushing to her and after a while, Rose's distress had started to subside. As Gill had looked away from the other two women, John couldn't help rolling his eyes upwards. All the while, their two children had sat stiffly in their chairs. Was this display of emotion really beyond their ability to handle especially as they had looked to their mother for guidance?

That had set the seal on the gathering. Nikki and Helen had exchanged glances as it had been painfully obvious that John and Gill had been sitting comfortably together on their two seater settee but a vast chasm had been opening up between them. They knew that they'd never persuade Gill to see reason as her ears and mind were both firmly closed. They had felt a little guilty in their measured opposition to this bigoted woman and had worried about John for the moment when they'd be gone and he'd suffer for his chivalrous support of them. Even at that first meeting, they first had a sneaking suspicion that sooner or later this marriage was doomed while everything had unrolled with dreadful inevitability like a slow motion film.

Nikki's and Helen's farewell at the end of the day had been stiff and formal though it had been fortunate that the dark was drawing in as it had concealed facial expressions. They had been no more than polite to Gill though they had already loathed her with a vengeance and they had reined in their natural effusiveness to John lest he suffer the consequences.

For the next five years, Nikki and Helen had made periodic visits to John's house as Gill had refused point blank for them to visit their flat. It's as if the surroundings of the flat might contaminate them, Nikki would drily observe to Helen. In these years, they had been struck how John balenced on a knife-edge in his wife's company, always seeking to make the balenced remark to keep the peace. By contrast, when John and Nikki met in lunchbreaks, he was flowing over with his emotions, more grateful than he could say in being able to speak how his heart felt. Another factor was that they had become highly conscious when Rose became better able to understand and express her feelings once she had learned to talk, having vaulted through the 'babytalk' phase with ridiculous ease.

"Why do we have to keep visiting Uncle John? You and mum aren't happy when we're over there and I'm really unhappy," Rose piped up one day when they were in the garden together and Nikki had asked her why she had looked down in the mouth.. She laid aside her gardening trowel as this was serious.

"I know how you feel but your uncle John is part of our family and our friend," Nikki said carefully, weighing every word for it to tell the truth. Already, this little girl had the knack of testing their honesty to the limit.

"He is but Gill isn't," Rose replied with devastating candour.

It was on Nikki's lips to say some platitude that there were differences in all families and it was all for the greater good when she mentally scratched out the line. It was bullshit and they'd brought Rose up to be truthful so they were getting just what they'd asked for.

"John isn't happy either and he needs our loves his children but he's finding it hard.,"Nikki had started to day at last with careful deliberation.

"Why?" Rose asked wide-eyed with incomprehension. Inwardly Nikki had groaned to herself as soon as the last words had escaped her mouth, knowing that she'd messed up.

"You're lucky Rose as Mum and I are best friends. John and Gill aren't. Their children can't please both of them at the same time so they don't know who to be. Also, John's doing his best but he's being pushed out of his own home bit by bit. You're not used to that and it doesn't feel good."

To Nikki's great relief, Rose had thought this over and her determined little face had nodded with evident relief. With a sense of delayed playback, the dark-haired woman had realised that these words felt right to Rose's sense of understanding and this was a big compliment. As her sense of vision opened out, she saw Helen's smiling face come closer into view. This intervention had sorted out a problem that Helen had been wrestling with. She had sighed with a breath of relief as this was an instance of them giving Rose the means of sorting out her own problems rather than dealing with it themselves. Since Rose had been due to start school full time in the next few weeks, this had felt very well timed in the grand scheme of things.

"Come on, let's play soldiers as Niamh isn't around," Rose had suddenly called out with a big grin all over her face. It had made Nikki smile at the way this little girl had reverted to childlike concerns and Helen grinned at the way their daughter had chosen her fencing companion. Impeturbably, the taller woman had led the way to her garden shed where she had a stack of canes that she'd intended for growing plants up but she reckoned that a few could be sacrificed in the cause of child development. It had brought back memories of her and John playing the same game years ago in their parent's back garden and how lethal she'd been with her pretend sword. This had given her a comforting sense of cyclical continuity in life which was especially reassuring. Being out in the back garden helped as it was the symbol of the renewal of life even while the ominous cloud hovered over John and Gill's shaky marriage.

It was two months after Rose started at primary school that the emotional downpour suddenly opened up. Helen had been busy piling an assortment of clothes into the washing machine when the house phone rang. Nikki had just handed Rose a bunch of felt tips to the little girl who started scrawling in her drawing book and she called out lightly to Helen that she'd take the call. As Helen straightened her back, she turned to see the smile wiped off her partner's face which turned white with shock.

"Oh John, I'm so sorry for you," Nikki started to say while Helen instantly drew the obvious conclusion and the taller woman poured out her natural sympathy. Rose stopped drawing and looked up expectantly. On the other end of the phone, inconsolable tears poured down the man's face. His other arm still clung to the suitcase into which he'd packed his earthly belongings while he propped himself up in a phone box as best he could. Even his mobile had let him down and was a useless lump in his suit jacket.

"You must come over and we'll put you up," Nikki urged, exchanging a quick glance with Helen.

"You're sure it's all right?" John asked anxiously. He knew how gracious his sister and Helen were but he feared to tread too much on their intimacy.

"Of course it is John. I know Rose won't mind either. Besides, we've let John Deed crash here for the night when he's had his emotional troubles," Nikki urged without a trace of hesitation in her voice."We'll have a nice cup of tea ready for you."

Amongst all; the tears that John Wade had bottled up for so many years, he couldn't help a curious nonsensical impulse of laughter. Nikki heard it all and realised that her prosaic idea had struck gold. She hadn't intended it that way. In fact her only intention was to offer a gesture of comfort and here she was sounding just like her mother.

"I mean it John. I mean everything. Do you want a lift or anything? If you do, we'll pick you up."

By now John had recovered himself a little and, in true intrepid explorer style, he felt for his car key and looked round for his car. He realised that he'd left it abandoned , the near side wheels parked well onto the pavement and the driver's door wide open. All this was definitely not his natural style but what was natural about this evening since the final row with Gill which saw him speeding off down the road on an unpleasant rainy evening? He looked round, saw the white street sign and figured out where he was parked.

"I know where I am Nikki. It's all right. I think I'll be with you in half an hour. Don't try my mobile as it's on the blink. I'm feeling a bit better now so I won't do anything stupid," John replied in as level headed a voice as he could conjure up.

After he signed off, he straightened his tie which was halfway round his neck and ventured out into the cold evening. Rain pattered down his tousled dark hair which he swept out of his eyes and he slumped down into the driver's seat. To his great relief, his catr started and he gingerly edged it back onto the road with a bit of a bump. He had an immense sense of home that was lying in wait for him many miles ahead of him. Thanks to his sister's calming voice, only now was he sure enough of himself to get there safely and glad of it as the calm methodical mental exercise would calm him down.

Helen's first split second glimpse of John as the door opened wide was of emotions nakedly exposed and his dark, tousled hair flopping over his forehead. The look of desperation immediately reminded her of his sister landing on her doorstep all those years ago. However, when he stumbled into the bright warmth of the hall out of the rain, he felt Nikki, Helen and Rose's concern wash over him and start to bathe away his tensions. It was what he wanted more than anything else in the world. Tonight was sanctuary and the future could wait till he could face it. Nikki embraced him warmly, led him through the hall with her arm round his shoulder and let him flop down into the armchair. After Helen passed over an unbelievably welcome mug of tea, Rose came over, concern in her eyes and sat on his tears pricked at his eyes as the feel of home and hearth overwhelmed him. He hadn't felt that way for years.

A little while later, the landline rang and a tight-faced Helen reached for the phone and, sure enough, Gill's cold voice came on the line peremptorily demanding to know where

her husband was. Helen took fire at once.

"He's stopping here overnight and if he's all right now, it's no thanks to you. You've been building this up for years. I don't suppose you want to talk to your husband and break the habit of a lifetime."

"The only way I'm talking to him is through solicitors. You and Nikki are at the bottom of our marriage breaking down by filling his head with all sort of fancy ideas. I'm sure you're cooking up fresh ones as we speak," snapped back Gill spitefully.

"In your dreams Gill," Helen retorted forcefully, seeing John's gesture and expression indicate that he couldn't bear to talk to his seriously estranged wife who'd ended up screaming at him forty odd long minutes ago."Now is not the time for the blame game. Nikki and I are trying to calm your husband down so that he can crash here for the night."

"And what about his children? What am I supposed to say to him having run out on us?" Gill shot back. This thrust momentarily flummoxed Helen as she had thought her rather stupid and reactionary and hadn't expected this degree of low cunning. A pause for thought enabled her to a sideways logical jump and the answer popped into her alert mind.

"I'll have you know that I've known the Wade family pretty well over the last years and they never abandon their responsibilities even in the most dire circumstances. It might as well be a coat of arms. Quite what's caused this upset, I'm not sure but I can make some pretty shrewd guesses," Helen slammed back, her temper having caught fire.

After a distinct silence, the phone went dead. Helen looked round a little apologetically and reeled off the contents of the conversation as she worried in case she'd overdone it.

"You did the right thing Helen. No one's ever got the better of Gill,"John said kindly. He bit back the observation that he hadn't really known Gill until too late. How in hell had he wandered so blindly into his marriage? They seemed so well suited at the time, he thought hazily to himself. However, he didn't want to pursue the matter any further as he didn't want to think too much. He hastily accepted the glass of wine offered to him, then another.

A few hours later, Helen was touched to see Rose give the quilt one final tuck as it was wrapped round John as he lay peacefully on the sofa. As Helen drove along to work, she recalled that moment as it seemed emblematic of the relationship between him and her family.


	5. Chapter 5

Lazily blinking her eyes open to a bright Saturday morning was Karen's idea of paradise especially as it wasn't her turn for a Saturday shift at St Mary's Hospital. She enjoyed the delicious feeling of luxurious satisfaction from the previous night of love-making with her luscious journalist lover, the dark-haired elegant Beth Pritchard who was deep in slumbers with one arm resting against her. She couldn't resist taking the time to slip out of bed and look at herself in the large dressing table mirror. She saw how her blonde hair fell forward in a fringe and framed her face which was shaped by her high cheek bones and her shapely lips. What bothered her and took the shine off the moment were the lines on her face that had made inroads on her looks. She had her moments of self-doubt and she regretted the years spent on male ex partners who had had the advantage of her at her best.

"Admiring your beauty gorgeous? You should be," called out a voice from behind her, the person dearest to her in the world.

"It's not often I have the time. I'm getting older and I'm glad I'm still up for some nude self-reflection," Karen answered in an attempt to keep things light as she turned round. In a second, Beth guessed what was on her lover's mind as the quick smile on the blonde's face hadn't concealed what was on her mind.

"Darling, you don't think that lines on a woman's face makes her any the less desirable. If you must know, my first crush was on my PE teacher who was a leggy blonde. She wasn't aware of my impure thoughts as I was too young and awkward to appreciate her properly. I remember looking longingly at her and put her out of my mind when I got older. When you came on the scene, I made sure not to make the same mistake twice," Beth admitted.

Karen opened her mouth with surprise. She'd talked a lot with Beth over the years but the sophisticated woman who was her lover and friend had never mentioned this. She looked back at the mirror to reassure herself and that prompted Beth to make her move. Words were not enough, she mused to herself as she slid out of the bed and decided on physical reassurance and the satisfaction of her own desires. Sleepily waking up and looking at the ravishing sight of her lover's statuesque back and fair hair falling over her shoulders did something to her. She slipped her arms around Karen and ran her fingers over her curves, finally taking in her ample breasts and stroking her nipples.

"Mmm, you certainly know how to make a woman feel wanted," Karen murmured blissfully, her back arching slightly. It was at moments like these that her fleeting self- doubts were erased especially when Beth made a move on her. Right now, she was passionately laying a series of kisses on her neck and shoulders.

"Nothing wrong with a bit of honest lust," Beth breathed into the fair haired woman's ear in between kisses. Karen laughed softly and gently ran her hand along her lover's forearm. It was the nearest she could manage in getting her hands on her lover. In this moment, the two women's world was bathed in a sense of golden desire and both of them were ready for life's odd twist and turn to work out for the best. As Beth started stroking the other woman's stomach with the fingers of her right hand, Karen let out a gasp of pleasure at the meaning and purpose behind Beth's moves. She opened her legs and gave off little moaning sounds of pleasure as this sexual surprise was especially pleasurable. Beth loved this moment as her lovemaking started to escalate knowing what she'd do for her lover as she slid two fingers inside Karen and started to work her up to excitement with practised ease. The fair haired woman squirmed and moaned with mounting intensity at every thrust inside her and finally climaxed with glorious pleasure.

"Wow.I wasn't expecting that," Karen said breathlessly while her arms were wrapped around the dark-haired woman who had been tenderly laying soft kisses all over her face." Surprises can make me feel so good," she added as an afterthought, kissing Beth back.

"So where do we take things from here?" came the seductive answer.

"Well, I need to get ready so I can take you the way I want to," Karen answered, rising to her partner's smiling challenge and glancing at their bedside drawer.

"So you don't mind if I watch you?" This was less a question than a proposition. The fair-haired woman grinned broadly and made her way to the drawer while Beth displayed herself on top of the quilt. This was exactly what Karen wanted as she leisurely secured her strapon, knowing what a visual aphrodisiac it provided for her lover with its promise of sexual pleasures. The dark-haired woman remembered how many years ago it was that she had suggested this form of lovemaking with more confidence than she'd felt and how Karen had responded without a blink. She'd been rewarded so many times for her act of courage. These tender feelings mingled with deliciously pleasurable feelings of awaiting being made loved to as the fair-haired woman moved closer and radiated seductive strength. Finally, Beth arched herself slightly as her lover's lips and tongue expertly licked and savoured her breasts while her fingers stroked her hair, neck and shoulders. While elated pleasure started to surge up inside her, Beth ran her hands through that beloved long blonde tousled hair and shapely body and her heart was overflowing. This was back to glorious reality for their mutual desires. This is what Beth wanted as she sighed and felt her lover's sensual confidence slide her fingers down her stomach knowing just how to coax her growing desires to open her legs wide. Both women had become confident and intimate with each other over the years and took their time with the , Karen felt her to be moist to the touch as their hips started to move When Karen finally moved on top of her lover and gradually slid her lover with practised ease, the dark haired woman cried out with pleasure and wrapped her legs round the fair haired sexual magician. This woman was everything Beth wanted, one who was strong and mature and they settled into the growing rhythms of their hips against each other and kissed and caressed each other with growing passion. Beth was entranced in seeing flashes of her lover's face which was lit up by the realisation of unbelievable pleasure. This was the life, both of them sighed as everything else was swept aside in the golden sunlight as they worked each other to a surging climax that seemed to go on forever inside them. It finally burst into a blessed release of all their physical and emotional love for each other and left them gasping for air.

"You're fantastic sweetheart," Beth said, exhaling the words on a flood tide of emotion and with the last breath in her body. It was heavenly to look upwards into the glowing beauty of Karen's face, sunlight shining in her deep blue eyes and her tousled blonde hair. It was the height of sensual pleasure to feel Karen slightly flexing deep inside her and loving every moment.

"You're really beautiful, so perfect. You make me feel so happy inside," Karen sighed loving the feel of her lover's arms wrapped round her." Years ago," she added with a soft laugh," I would never have been so loving and romantic."

While they lay contentedly together, time passed with light footsteps until reluctantly Karen eased herself out of her lover, removed her strapon and laid it on one side, supposing that they should now face the day. She turned round to see Beth grin broadly and reach for the side drawer.

"Wait a minute darling. You don't think I've quite finished with you yet." Karen caught a sharp intake of breath and a pleasant warm feeling ran through her vitals. The sight of her lover's slim outstretched arm and long slim body did things to her and clinched the matter.

A long while later, Karen finally slipped into a lacy negligee and lit up a post orgasm cigarette after the dark haired woman had thoroughly pleasured her. She led the way to the kitchen where she made two strong mugs of coffee In Beth's eyes, this was all part of what her lover was about with her husky voice. She looked incredibly sexy while admiring glances were returned to the vision of loveliness in her scarlet red shortish silk dressing gown. They exposed her long slim legs which she couldn't help glancing at everry so often. The two women sleepily strolled into the living room and flopped down on the settee and placed the mugs down on the coffee table. Their passionate lovemaking this morning had worn them out in a pleasant fashion as well as being on sleep from making love for hours the night before.

While the sunshine streamed down on them, Karen snuggled up to her lover and all the elements of existence cast them into a dreamlike state. Surely, they were about to have a slightly fraught discussion in this very room on a Saturday morning over the one bone of contention that had arisen, Karen's son Ross. Karen remembered that they'd had a similar morning making love or was it one and the same morning after all?. This had contrasted with the previous fraught weekend which couldn't be blamed on either of them but that hadn't helped matters at the time

"You've got something on your mind darling," Beth posed her soft and gentle question when the sunshine had suddenly faded out of Karen's shaped face. Beth guessed that this question needed asking while they had been both emotionally open to speak their thoughts. They had previously talked about the elephant that had entered the room but Karen had shut herself inside her shell and Beth had failed to grasp what was at stake. This time, Beth vowed to do better even if Karen's body immediately stiffened and she looked warily around her from behind her half closed shutters.

"I really admire the way you really stuck up for us every inch of the way before Ross cleaned up his act. When he grew up a bit six months ago, the trouble is that things got complicated," Beth said laying her hand on Karen's arm and tried to fend off an attack of nervousness but unfortunately she left things hanging in the air. This prompted Karen to raise her eyebrows in puzzlement and the painful pause left a chasm opening up between them. The fair haired woman fumbled for a cigarette and a greedy nicotine intake sparked off inspiration.

"When I fell for you all these years ago, I was overjoyed to dump a whole load of useless emotional baggage and be the woman I should be. Trouble is that being a mother meant that this disentanglement not so easy. Want to hear about it?"

Beth sensed that her lover's desperate need to be understood overlaid this casually issued invitation and that this oblique strategy was how Karen used to operate. The tension in the air contrasted with this sunny dreamlike existance where everything should have been perfect.

"I can't relate to it so well personally but this is really important, a whole part of your life so I'm involved," Beth urged in her most soothing compelling manner and folded the other woman in her arms for a while, feeling the tension drain out of her body.

"When Ross started being well behaved when he came round instead of being a total sponger, I was idiotically grateful and compelled to be the perfect mum. You must have noticed it?" Karen said in a slow, halting fashion letting her cigarette burn away untended.

"So is being supermum incompatible with a healthy sex life with your partner?" Beth softly asked, wondering if this frankness might spook Karen. To her relief, Karen laughed ruefully to herself, glad that her partner had drawn these tangled knots of thinking out into the open and seeing it start to disentangle of its own accord.

"Tell me Beth. When you lived at home, were you ever aware of your parents having sex?" Karen probed with a slight smirk on her face.

"Of course I heard them. You know how adventurous I am. Once I knew, I wasn't impressed as I wanted out from family life when I was in my mid-teens."

"It sounds weird but I never did. Believe it or not, I grew up thinking that parents didn't have sex lives. In any case, I joined the WRAF when I was seventeen. guess that's another shit idea I need to junk. Even then, I'm wary of having full on sex while Ross is around," Karen said slowly and meditatively as she felt her way towards a solution.

"So you tell me what you'll be comfortable with darling," Beth said softly and tenderly, gently feeling her way through Karen's blonde hair. These gentle words and actions did the trick as it emboldened Karen to solve this hitherto impossible conundrum.

"All right Beth. Ross is used to us acting affectionately round each other which is something he wasn't used to from my exes. Having a girlfriend might be helping him as well. I think we can try making out with fingers so long as we aren't too noisy to begin with so that we're tender with just a bit of lust. If Ross can't deal with that, I think I'm strong enough to deal with him. In a way, it's trickier now he's nicer than he used to be," Karen said slowly and looked her lover in the eye.

This calm assurance brought tears of relief to form in Beth's eyes and her arm slid round her lover's shoulders and her other hand took Karen's palm and kissed it. It looked a little work worn but none the less beautiful in Beth's eyes for all that. The fair-haired woman gently kissed Beth's tears away and then laid a long soft kiss on her lips.

"How do we manage to end up so reasonable with each other?" joked Karen but Beth was sharp enough to sense the underlying emotional seriousness.

"Because we're grown up and care for each other and not selfish and egotistical, sweetheart," Beth said softly in a muffled fashion, kissing her lover softly.

"And that's why you are my one and only love," Karen said, her words echoing down the years to come as she kissed Beth back again.

"And that's why you are my one and only love," Karen repeated as these words snatched from her soul expressed everything she wanted to say.

"Hey wake up you sleepy thing. I love it when you whisper endearments in your sleep," Beth said in a sharper, more distinct tone of voice that jerked at the fair-haired woman's consciousness. Karen felt her head lolling and realised that her head had sunk down and was resting on the dark- haired woman's breasts and she shuffled in real bewilderment. Beth kissed her on her ear as she'd let her lover doze off in the morning sunshine and her lips had sleepily whispered endearments. She wanted Karen to be awake to be conscious of her love though she had sensed that she'd been in a lovely state of mind. Besides, she had baser motives in wanting to get a good look at her lover's cleavage which her negligge generously exposed.

"Hey, what happened?",Karen found herself mumbling to herself as her tongue stuck to the inside of her mouth."Have I been asleep?" she added, finding herself back in reality.

"Of course you have, sweetheart. You looked so peaceful lying next to my breast," Beth said tenderly and reassuringly.

"We were having a heart to heart talk about Ross and how his presence scared me off sex when he came round. We did talk it over and sort it out, didn't we?" Karen asked a little anxiously, not quite sure what time zone or plane of existence they were both in.

"Of course we did. Five or six years ago we sorted it out so things improved out of all recognition. He's twenty-five now with his girlfriend and both have good jobs. Come on, let's drink up our coffees and wake ourselves up.

Though the drinks were lukewarm, they drank them down and it helped blow the cobwebs out of their minds.

"I remember it now," Karen said more definitely. She placed the crystal clear moment all those years ago when tentative glances between mother and son told them that they had a long way to go before they'd be comfortable with each other, Beth included and months after that, they'd shared a cup of coffee and had their first grown up talk. "Ross was saying that he'd suddenly relieved to discover that all he was expected was to be normal and do all right for himself. He was joking that having his girlfriend was all right by us. He'd had the sneaking feeling that he was expected to be gay or something. I'd never known that all that was going round in his mind."

As Beth joined in the laughter, she remembered Ross saying that and for the first time since she'd known him, he actually looked a little like his mother. Perhaps it was that self-deprecating laugh of his that reminded Beth so much of her friend and lover or so she thought in tender reminiscence.

The two women lay back on the settee in the hazy satisfaction of pleasant contentment on this sunny morning. Presently a lazy swirl of thoughts in Karen's head was put into spoken words .

"Darling, does it concern you that sex is so much a part of our lives together?" she asked lightly.

"There's a lot that holds us together that we don't need to talk about," mused Beth as she read the thoughts behind the words and spoke slowly."You've got a killer sense of humour and you're mature and restful to be around. I feel your presence even when we're cleaning up and not talking- and you're great fun when we're out on the town. You don't know what a rare combination that is."

"Even after all these years, I am so lucky in having a partner who's an intelligent mature human being, someone I can rely on," answered Karen quickly as if she was in danger of taking this for granted."

"Guess we're made for each other sweetheart. We can't help it," Beth said softly with a winning half smile on her lips. It was this that prompted Karen to take her lover's slim hand and kiss her palm, an entirely spontaneous gesture which Beth lovingly returned. It was so simple and so true.

"Since we're getting everything off our chests, I thought I'd confess my one and only unfulfilled sexual fantasy of you is of running my hand up one of your gorgeous dresses and that's only because I'd risk damaging it. I know what you're like," Karen answered with a slight laugh and a smirk on her face as she edged closer to her lover.

"Mmmn," ,"I'm really flattered as that's so lesbian of you. You really are insatiable. You've been sneaking glances at my legs and this time my dressing gown makes things so much handier."Beth murmured invitingly as she undid the sash of Karen's negligee and fully exposed the sight of her own sexual distraction.

"As we say, pleasure before business, lots of it," grinned the fair-haired woman grinned and shook her tousled hair back off her shoulders. Though time was passing by, that didn't stop her from caressing her lover's slim legs while having her own breasts expertly touched while marvelling how she was perfect in every way.


	6. Chapter 6

By contrast with Karen and Beth's warmly glowing world of sexual and emotional satisfaction, Neil Haughton found himself once again alone at his office desk within the hallowed walls of the Home Office with his head in his hands. Everything was turning to dust in his hands, including his political career which was as doomed as was the government with nothing meaningful to counterbalance it.

After making a tidy pile in advertising, it seemed only natural to drift into politics as a related activity to enhance his career and to make some useful contacts. The party that he joined was as good as any other and was tipped to overthrow the existing government so it was good timing that an elderly MP of the cloth cap persuasion had conveniently died. His friendly overtures attracted attention from the behind the scenes movers and shakers and they had appreciated his zealous belief in the product he was accustomed to promote. His previous employment related at one move to his industrial speciality so he was a natural to become Minister of Trade and Industry after serving his apprenticeship as MP and duly demonstrating his party loyalty

By this time, he'd divined the cross-cutting pattern of shifting loyalties, ambitions and rivalries within the Houses of Parliament and his primary need was to back the right horse, politically speaking. It was for this reason that he formed useful friendships with the Prime Minister and with his hated rival, the Chancellor of the Exchequer with the kind of moral flexibility that outdid even the world of advertising. It enabled him to land the plum job as Home Office minister where his natural authoritarianism was given full play as par for the course.

Along the way, he acquired a necessary consort, the naturally aristocratic Georgia Channing, daughter of a Court of Appeal judge and naturally thrusting advocate in her own right in highly lucrative civil partnership cases. She also naturally fell into the related role as the government's hired legal gun.

"The PM thinks we make a great partnership George," he said one evening a long time ago in heartily congratulating tones as he watched himself in the mirror knotting his tie ready to go out to a cocktail do. George had smiled her enigmatic smile and kissed him on his cheek but when he offered similar compliments, she remained strangely silent which he assumed to be her tacit agreement with his point of view. It was only at a later date that George underwent a peculiar change of heart in her views. She finally blew up at him when he announced his perfectly sensible idea to curtail the irresponsible power of judges and unreasonably took the side of that infernal lesbian cop killer who'd fluked her way out of jail. The crowning humiliation was when she upped and left him and he gave way to an explosion of anger at the world in general. What was worse was when it came to his ears that she'd taken up with another woman, a social worker for God's sake.

After that, he attempted to expunge any consciousness of his ex-partner as if he'd put an offending file back into its closed steel cabinet. She only popped into his consciousness at a distance when she threw in her lot with Deed and Jo Mills as a most unlikely campaigner for wretched do-gooder causes. It was only natural that he withdrew colder and tighter into his work which consumed more of his waking hours than ever before. He needed to keep the lid on unruly disruptive forces seeking to overthrow the system. These ranged from criminals, Muslim terrorists and professional agitators of all shapes and descriptions, the last being the most intractable of all his enemies.

As he wiped the metaphorical sweat from his brow and poured himself a glass of mineral water, he had drawn satisfaction from his steady progress in getting a succession of security provisions onto the statute book. On the other hand, the judges had remained bonded together to make vexatious judgments that were in danger of encroaching on his progress. It was all too easy for trouble makers to cry foul with a Court of Appeal judgment and obstruct the process of government. His overriding drive was to keep everything buttoned down and zipped up so nothing could get out of control. What helped him most of all was that the tabloids and most of the quality press were keeping the country regularly on message about law and order so that the liberal press was a shadow of its former self.

All this had changed in a day as his sightless eyes gazed upon the neatly typed statutory instrument on the table that was now consigned to the wastebin of history. Its title as the ninety days bill was a positive genius as it allowed for those accused of terrorist crimes to be held without charge up to one day short of three months before a charge should be brought. It should have been a natural judging from the way the press had shaped public opinion. What he hadn't expected was opportunistic right wing libertarian opposition which was joined by the usual suspects in his own party so that the bill was ignominiously sunk in the division chambers. He had stalked out of the chamber under the accusing eye of the new prime minister, feeling sick at heart because he wouldn't recover from this irretrievable blunder. After all, he'd seen other ministers being ruthlessly dumped during the twelve years his party had been in power while he'd paid no attention to the rapidly disappearing non persons.

Added to his own personal disaster, he saw that the government was heading inexorably towards a slow motion car crash. The squabbling and intriguing amongst ministers had reached a new vicious level of intensity and the new prime minister hadn't got the grip his predecessor had had so that government was unravelling just when a financial crisis was starting to build momentum. In the depths of his worries that night, he saw that his days were numbered as a government minister, of the ministerial limousine and the civil servants might not be any longer his to command. The thoughts gave him the cold shivers and he tried to fight them off with positive actions and block off his emotions. It was, after all what he did best.

Finally, he threw all the papers into his briefcase and headed for the door. He'd earned his money today. It was late and he was tired as he drove in the busy traffic heading for his apartment.

A few cars further down the line, an anonymous man drove a red London double-decker on his last loop of his shift. He'd done nothing more than another working shift and he was thankful that he wasn't on the late shift when all the drunks and rowdies came out. He disliked them as they acted as if the bus ran on rails and wasn't carefully negotiated through the bumper to bumper traffic. His last pay increase was miserably inadequate and didn't match the steady increase in the cost of living. He heard the bell ring for the next stop ahead so he indicated to the line of traffic behind him. As he slowed, two cars nipped past him while the oncoming traffic was temporarily clear as well it might be with the rush hour traffic. Finally, a flashy black Mercedes zoomed past him and, having only just spotted the oncoming lorry, it cut in on him. The man jammed on the breaks suppressing curses just when he was due to pull up for the next stop. Standing passengers grabbed for the rails to stop falling over and were similarly complaining. Typical tosser driving that Merc, he thought indignantly to himself.

Neil Haughton was in a hurry to get home so he was already irritated by the bus lumbering along a couple of cars ahead of him. When it flashed its indicators to pull in at the bus stop, he cursed under his breath. His path was being impeded so that a load of plebs could meander round the countryside not knowing that people had places to go to and fast. He put his foot on the throttle, tooted his horn and just about cut through the narrow space left by a lorry coming straight at him upon which he was off and away clear of the rush hour traffic. He was all right, he thought to himself with a sense of slightly reviving satisfaction that at least a minor aspect of his life went well.

It was now spitting down with rain under grey and murky skies when Neil Haughton was driving through the suburb before his home. At was at this point when he couldn't help noticing a number of women walking along the pavement through not that he went out of his way to study such matters. His eye glanced casually past mothers manoeuvring push chairs along the pavements and he lingered disinterestedly on single women sashaying in their high heeled shoes and tight skirts. More to his age was a woman he studied whose trim body was shaped by a knee length skirt, long slim legs and an elfin haircut. This observation was helped by slow moving traffic moving along the one-way street past scattered parked cars. Ahead of him, a smart white Ford was parked in a lay by and out from the driver's seat stepped another attractive woman with long blonde hair. Her face lit up but to his regret this expression of pleasure was not destined for him. Neil Haughton was totally unprepared for the blonde to embrace the shorter haired woman and openly kiss her. He cursed and jabbed at his brake as his temporary loss of attention took him dangerously close to the car in front. Another two lesbians had paraded themselves before his eyes only to dash his hopes to the ground. He screeched past the white car and headed off for home in a thoroughly bad mood.

*****

"Thanks so much darling," said a slightly windswept and rain spattered Jo Mills to her lover, Jane Lancaster, with whom she'd been living for the last seven years. "The AA roadside recovery have only just set off to take my car into the garage. I've got a fair idea of how much it'll cost me but it won't break the bank."

"I'm glad to be around," came the nonchalant reply as Jane manoeuvred the car to head off in the other direction for home in the gathering darkness. Car breakdowns weren't welcome news and she was glad that Jo Mills was being calm about the whole deal.

"I'm so grateful you turned up when you did as I wasn't too happy being stranded this time in the evening. I could hardly hang a sign around me saying L for lesbian," Jo Mills responded in more animated tones.

Jane Lancaster laughed at her partner's droll witticism but couldn't work out how to cap that remark so she stuck to business.

"It took me ages to fix up cover for me to pick you up but I'm so glad I made it. It means that I won't be finishing late so the evening is all ours," she ended on a tender note.

Jo Mills was tired out from a day finishing the battle on her latest court case, having dumped her papers at her office before the annoyance at her car breakdown so she smiled sleepily and leant her head on Jane's shoulder. The long haired blonde smile affectionately back at the sight of her lover's curled up form with her neat blue suit jacket, trim skirt and neat black shoes. She looked so much in peace and Jane fondly remembered the way they had slipped into their life together. She'd got over her very first female love out of her system even after she'd come back to haunt her. Jo had miraculously shifted her base, discarded aspects of her personality that had penned her in and had been born to become Jane's lover. They were now here for the long haul. These sentimental feelings were ideal company as she steered the car through the darkness. Street lights flashed past kept up hypnotic visual repetition while the windscreen washers slapped out a lazy rhythm against the spatters of rain.

"We're home at last love," sang out Jane as she swung her car into the drive. Jo Mills murmured in satisfaction at the thought of being cared for and driven home. It reached into her deepest needs that had never been nurtured, certainly not her late husband nor John Deed's erratic presence nor awkward dates with other men in between.

"Where- where are we?" Jo muzzily murmured as she sensed the car come to a halt.

"We're back home. I'd carry you over the threshold but I'm knackered from a day at work," Jane answered tenderly as she kissed the other woman's cheek. This was what Jo wanted to hear in her warmed up soul and she stretched herself, realised that she had no need of her briefcase. She followed Jane through the front door of their elegant bungalow they'd bought a number of years ago to make a fresh start for them both. Jo gave way to automatic habit in worrying what to cook for them both as it was getting late when Jane intervened.

"Just relax darling. Let's phone through for a takeaway meal or else we'll be cooking and washing up afterwards all night. Let's take the weight off our legs and I'll pour us a drink," she said lightly. The way she slipped her arm round Jo's waist did the trick in overcoming her residual housewife guilt and made way for another more attractive suggestion.

"It's Friday night in a couple of nights time. It's enough time to recover and go to Chix?" Jo Mills answered, grinning at the thought of the burden being lifted from their shoulders.

"Of course. I love us going there and shaking it out on the dance floor together," Jane said, visibly savouring the prospect in advance.

"In that case, let me change into something drier and more comfortable first," Jo answered in a smirking tone of voice. She was staring boldly at her lover who was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a loose fitting top which also showed off the best of her curves.

"Only if I help you," came Jane's irresistible reply. Following the older woman into their boudoir, Jane came up close to her lover and her hand started to softly caress all the delightful curves of her behind. Jo Mills sighed in satisfaction at the feel of their slowly rising desires. No other lover had thought to touch her like that but she knew that Jane loved that particular part of her body amongst others. Jane slowly started to unzip her skirt at the side and both women started to wonder what would come first, some spontaneous sex or the drink they'd been promising themselves or would both happen in no particular order, especially as the long haired woman's fingers started moving in underneath the skirt and touch her more intimately. Living with Jane had accustomed her to taking a relaxed attitude to life and being all the better for it.

*****

"You're weird. You're weird. You're weird." That was the pronouncement the two girls had thrown in Rose's face, starting from her double-barrelled name, her deliberate obscurity about her father and her strange opinions she held about everything that didn't fit in with this area of London. For all her attempts to camouflage herself, she didn't talk the way the other girls talked and it disturbed them. Weird, weird, weird, the word echoed round in Rose's mind from out-front insults to muttered asides. One evening, Rose settled herself down in her bed in the soft pink glow of the sidelights, next to her favourite fluffy toys. When she began to think about it, she rather liked the texture of the word, something she had gleaned from both her parents without them being aware of their specific influence. It made her feel special, set apart, different, slightly mad in a reassuring and intriguing fashion. She began to ask herself what was wrong with weird? It made her sound interesting and different- like Mummy and Nikki. They couldn't help being like they were and she knew that she couldn't help but follow in their footsteps. In her mind, she started to separate out the way others might see her and the way herself. She hadn't really thought this way before and this revelation really cheered her up. She resolved there and then to stick to who she was. She belonged. Nothing could take away her home and who she was. It was that easy. She never forgot that revelation.

In any case, her friend with whom she shared jumping cracks on flagstones also enjoyed her fancies as well. She hugged her fluffy toy and settled down for the night just as mummy turned the light off and said 'night night' in that lovely comforting voice or was it Nikki's turn tonight. She knew that she was all right and Mummy and Nikki's female friends who came round to visit them from time to time smiled down warmly and approvingly at the bright little girl. She knew where she was headed and if others didn't see that, it was their misfortune, not hers.


	7. Chapter 7

"It's the same old story," complained Alice Swinburne as she rested her long legs on the footstool while gratefully accepting a stiff glass of whisky. Her long term lover, the blond haired George Channing had cooked them a delicious evening meal at the end of a hard day's work and they'd washed up. Now she pricked up her ears as she joined her lover on the sofa with her own glass of spirits.

"So despite all your hard work and dedication, you've been passed over for the senior Social Worker job you were angling for and some nobody gets the prize?" she observed drily. George's profession as a leading barrister and her natural inclinations meant that she wasn't generally known for her bedside manner, being once dubbed "The Ice Maiden" by her one time estranged daughter Charlie in her teenage years. However, her cynical manner concealed an insightful and sympathetic nature and when she softened her manner, it was for real and Alice had long since got to love all the facets of her partner.

"That's about it George," Alice replied gratefully taking her lover's hand in hers as this sharp observation crystallised her own free floating emotional discontent with her lot. "I know I get good results with the families I deal with. I'm averse to the tickbox approach around these days which is all bound up with promoting yourself."

"I'm hardly the soul of modesty in court but I rest my case on my reputation," George observed lightheartedly before becoming more serious. "Are you sure there isn't some homophobia at work? We and our friends feel that living like this is perfectly natural but not everyone sees it this way."

Alice's eyes opened wide at this unexpectedly sharp question. She started to depict her office in her mind. There she was seated at her desk typing up reports, trying to be helpful and ladylike amongst the discussions around her colleagues. She admitted she struggled with new instructions written in soulless gobbledook while the younger man who stole the job had that facility to mouth the latest buzzwords. It prompted her to consider uncomfortable possible conclusions.

"I might be struggling to keep up with all these changes. I'm not a civil servant. Perhaps I'm getting middle aged and tired," Alice answered with a worried tone in her voice. She'd never thought that self-doubt was particularly productive, especially when the press had a periodic field day over cases when children in families under their supervision had died and she might easily have made a similar wrong call.

"Are you sure? I come up against pipsqueak judges like Tim Jackson, son of the original hanging judge who sent Nikki down for life. He's so new I can still see the indentation of his school cap yet he's got promotion so fast it makes you blink. I'm sure you come over as feminine and not dykishly threatening at work but it's no professional secret that you have a ladylove in your private life. I've come to believe that every institution is infected from on high by narrow minded control freaks who creep their way up the ladder and they only admit their prejudices behind closed doors and are politically correct in public. John Deed's favourite word for them is apparatchik and he's right though I'd never admit it to his face. I've had backstage experience of this world from consorting with Haughton and his fearful cronies. Perhaps even in social services whose reputation is liberal not to say permissive, lesbians aren't the flavour of the month. I'm afraid you're up against a glass ceiling darling, believe me."

George's concentrated logic took the wind out of Alice's sails, even as she concluded her words by stroking the dark-haired woman's cheek as comfort. She respected George's intelligence too much to brush it aside. She drained the last of the measure of whisky and anger flared up in her.

"I ought to have every chance of promotion. I shouldn't be shunted aside because of some closet homophobe. I've worked hard enough for it," she declaimed out into empty space.

"You think that promotion makes you free? I don't like to think of Haughton more than I possibly help for fear that it makes me ill but he's an instructive lesson here in how not to live your life. There he was, Mister Big, ruler of all he surveys in the Home Office before whom his subordinates quaked in their shoes for fear of displeasing him. Yet he had to ingratiate himself before the Prime Minister like all those up and coming politicians do to useful people like Sir Tim Listfield. He made a fortune of marketing dangerous mobile phones. He's one of a whole network of the nouveau riche and powerful. The more he strove, the more he shackled himself and expended all his energies to getting on that he never considered the better things in life, like walking in the park arm in arm with your loved one."

The intent expression on Alice's face gave way to a soft smile as George had invited her out on such a romantic experience one spring morning. She remembered the soft glow of the sunshine had melted together with the feel of George's arm round her waist or in holding hands as they walked. Yes, such moments were delicious and she knew that pursuing a career wasn't everything.

"But how have you, Jo Mills and John Deed prospered if that's the way the world works? The three of you have had your cake and eaten it," questioned Alice without thinking. A sly grin curved round George's lips as she turned the expression around in her mind.

"You know what I can be like that way but does it make us hypocrites professionally speaking? I freely admit shamelessly using Daddy's surname to advance myself as John's was associated with danger. Nevertheless, I worked hard enough even if I was amoral to establish myself as a barrister in my own right. The establishment found it useful to deploy John's brilliance in getting to the bottom of most abstruse cases but I absolutely forbid you to tell him that. He's also got the facility to balance on the edge of disaster without falling off the edge with natural survival skills. A course in Nikki and Helen personal ethics has helped him. Jo Mills has always adopted John's politics from when he was her pupilmaster but I can't accuse her of benefitting by any patronage even if I used to tell her otherwise to wind her up. She might have benefitted by a brief fashion in seeking the advancement of women barristers but otherwise, her prominence is an unaccountable accident. The point is that the three of us have so far but no further and enjoy its limited benefits without seeking to climb further up the greasy ladder. No doubt, Tim Jackson and his kind will be Appeal Court judges in no time but none of us will be losing sleep over it," George said thoughtfully, having assisted her train of thought with a lighted cigarette.

"So what's the purpose in life? Either way, we all get screwed," Alice asked disconsolately after much contemplation of the situation.

"One answer is never become a manager unless you do it your way like Helen and Claire who understand people and feelings. They have some hold on life like the rest of us have. All the rest of our friends are really just like us. The trick is to carve out your own space for manoeuvre and quietly disobey any order that no decent human being could stomach. Managers walk around, poo- faced, getting agitated about nothing that's real- and probably have lamentable love lives as well."

"For all your aristocratic background, you're something of an anarchist," an amused Alice said in reply to her partner's idiosyncracies.

"Aren't I just? I learned it at boarding school without knowing it," grinned George. She'd pulled the ideas off the top of her head but knew that they'd been swirling around her head for years and she'd quietly mulled over them. "Since the television is so abysmal tonight, why don't we create our own entertainment?"

George timed the way she slid her hand up the inside of Alice's thigh just right as she'd sensitively dispelled her previous dark mood. She was in the mood for celebration and she took George's face between her long slender hands and laid the first of many soft kisses on her lips.

Jane had finally finished pleasuring her lover whose legs were wound round her blond haired lover. Her fertile imagination could picture her being deep inside her lover thanks to the products of the lesbian sex shop they frequented. Jo's smart skirt, suit jacket and formal shirt were scattered along with the blond haired woman's jeans and tops and various bras and knickers. She felt so good within herself as her hips gently flexed ever so slightly backwards and forwards while they exchanged many long kisses. It vaguely crossed both their minds that they'd never got round to ordering the takeaway meal or pouring drinks for themselves but a more vital hunger had needed assuaging first.

"I've just had an interesting thought," Jo said suddenly after she had floated on a high tide of post orgasm dreaminess when a nagging thought suddenly begged to be voiced.

"I'm cool with that so long as we don't have to move," Jane answered imperturbably.

"I only want you to pass me my mobile which is on the bedside table. I won't be long," Jo said reassuringly. The fair haired woman moved her body slightly and her hand just about reached the mobile.

"Oh hi George," Jo said a little breathlessly and cryptically. "Are you OK to talk?"

"Allowing for me lying semi-naked on the sofa with Alice licking my left nipple, yes I'm OK to talk so long as you make it quick," George drawled back, making her pleasure obvious. On the other end of the phone, Jo deduced that her friends' pleasures had been completed and giggled to herself. She could easily have said that she was naked, her legs wrapped round Jane whose dildo was up inside her. Jane's sharp eyes spotted this train of thought and resolved to pursue the matter at the first opportunity.

"That's all right then," Jo said with insouciance and masterly understatement. "Would you and Alice be willing to come with Jane and myself to Chix this Saturday night? We're in the mood to party."

"That includes me George," Jane called out while twisting he body slightly so as to get nearer to the mobile Jo held in her hand. The other woman grinned as she was slightly differently positioned than when she was at work, sitting behind her desk and fully clothed.

"Alice and I are definitely in the mood," George answered rapidly as Alice called out her assent. "If you don't mind, I'm required elsewhere. Lovers are so demanding, you know."

Jo clicked off the phone and reached sideways and upwards to replace the phone where it had been. Jane gave a little thrust with her hips to emphasise the point she was making.

"Now come on Jo. I know that George was in the middle of sexual gymnastics with Alice and told you so or else you'd have talked for longer. You were grinning at the fact that I'm up inside you but you didn't enlighten your best friend. Am I right or wrong?"

Jo was bashfully flummoxed yet pleased at the same time by such direct and affectionate teasing and tried to make light of it but the sharp-witted woman was having none of it.

"Why don't you tell all to your old friend, sweetheart? After all, she's got your best interests at heart. It's nothing to be ashamed of," teased Jane in a very seductive tone of voice.

"I, well, you mean, you don't talk about things like that. It's not like everybody's doing it," a flustered Jo replied.

"Karen and Beth do. Beth persuaded Karen pretty soon after they became an item and now they're having a whale of a time every which way depending on how they feel," Jane declared with perfect aplomb.

Jo's jaw dropped open at the revelation. She had never thought to guess such a thing. It took her a while to gather her scattered wits but a suspicion grew as to which way the wind was blowing. Up till then, Jane had nobly refrained from raising such a matter.

"Oh no,no,no,no. It's not my style even if it's yours," she protested.

"Oh come now. You must have been secretly fascinated to be the woman on top. It feels so good I assure you," Jane started to urge persuasively, looking more attractive than ever.

On Saturday morning, an excited Jane led a highly self-conscious Jo Mills through the brightly decorated shop front which was screened off from the road. Once over the threshold, the vice like feeling within Jo relaxed its grip and she was reassured by the pretty girls who chattered away while they pored over and examined the goods on sale. It felt like any fashion shop. She clasped her lover's hand as they strolled, taking in the range from conventional to utterly bizarre.

"Can I help you both or do you want to browse a bit?" called out a sweet young assistant with perfect makeup and blonde permed hair who looked very frail. She knew that the younger woman was perfectly at home but the older woman was clearly new to this world. There was a danger that too much thinking might cause her to back out when she really didn't want to.

"We've come for my girlfriend's sake to make things between us more two way," gently interposed Jane who felt her role was to take the lead as she squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It looks as if we've come to the right place," she added lightly.

"You probably guess that the thickness depends on how many fingers you're accustomed to use," the assistant explained softly, making sure she didn't sound too vague or too coarse. Fortunately, this helped Jo to narrow down her range of choice and her desired object sharpened focus while the rest faded in the background. She blessed the fact that she was generally a decisive shopper. Jo picked up the strapon with fingers which felt as if she were handling a precious object and she bashfully handed it to the assistant. She pulled out her cheque-card with more assurance, being the one activity she felt confident about.

"You've chosen well. I'm smaller than you so I use a narrower version of this on my girlfriend. It's transformed our love life, believe me. One tip is trust to your girlfriend first time though looking at you both, I'm sure you'll both be fine."

Jo stared wide-eyed at this girl. She realised that the image of a crop-haired woman in dungarees had haunted her imagination. If this delicate thing was so confident with her lover, what's holding her back.

"You've chosen well, Jo. I can very well easily imagine you inside me with that. It'll make a lovely change," Jane said softly and tenderly, resting her hand on Jo's which was slightly trembling. They'd done it and committed themselves. They exchanged melting glances at each other and felt that nothing around them could do any harm.

"Ooh, you look so cute together," the assistant exclaimed with a slight squeal in her voice. "Excuse me for saying," she added. Jo smilingly waved this charming girl's self-consciousness aside, intrigued by the girl's mix of teenage and mature.

"You're both going anything special tonight?" she added, trying to sound more mature.

"You mean will we christen this? Well, we might after we come back from Chix. It's a club we've been going to for years," explained Jo after glances of shared agreement to their plan with Jane.

"Isn't it for older women?" the girl asked dubiously without thinking before feeling slightly foolish as she realised she felt at home with these two older women. "All right, I'll drag Keeley along with me."

Out of the corner of her eye, Jo saw another young woman approach the counter with perfect assurance of her own purchase. The assistant noticed it too - she had business to attend to.

"I'm sorry. I end up talking too much. Be seeing you around," she hastily said.

"See you," murmured the other two women. As Jo made her way to the door, she felt as if she was floating on air with the feeling that this corner turned in her life was one of her most delightful.


	8. Chapter 8

On Saturday morning, Trisha went to the business area of the lesbian club that she ran with her partner and lover, Sally-Anne Howe. She sat behind her computer as she started to go through the business accounts. Clattering sounds echoing through the building announced that Sally-Anne was doing a stocktaking check of alcohol that was served on the premises. The club had been running for between ten and fifteen years under the name of Chix and it had expanded from being a labour of love for her and their like-minded friends to a paying commercial proposition. Trisha was in a thoughtful mood after she'd whizzed through the accounts.

Trisha had been told that, this Saturday, a number of her oldest and dearest friends were coming on Saturday night and she loved the thought that Karen, Beth George and Alice and Jo Mills and Jane hadn't forgotten the fact that they'd first met on the dance floor at hers and Sally Anne's club and had gone on to settle down in long term relationships. Even then, they continued to spend Saturday nights dancing into the small hours partly for the pleasure, partly as a place to dress up and partly from teary eyed emotional recall of their shared past. The news gave her and Sally-Anne a jolt of optimism and their friends were assured of their place in the VIP lounge.

The two women had been running the club together for a good number of years since Nikki's original interest in the club had been bought out and the original circle of thirty-something friends had remained loyal, especially when relationships had broken down along the way and it gave the opportunity to eye up fresh talent. A younger element also patronized the club though their adherence to the club was more fickle as their sense of fashion. Both Trisha and Sally-Anne knew they couldn't ignore the financial bottom line in changing times.

There were two women whose growing absences from the club were keenly felt but on the other hand, she understood perhaps only too well why that should be. She could picture them so easily, Nikki Wade who was tall and lean with boyish cropped hair and a gentle feminine understanding and Helen Stewart, the smaller curvier Scot whose vivacious manner and equally strong convictions as Nikki were such a perfect match. She could freely admit that this was even more so than she and Nikki had been for nine years till Nikki had been imprisoned for the bizarrely serious crime of taking out the policeman who would otherwise have raped her. Oh yes, Nikki went back a very long way and what had made her feel especially guilty was that time had rushed by with the continuous effort of running their club. She'd not kept her promise to make time for keeping in touch with their adorable child as they'd promised when she and Sally-Anne had witnessed her birth. The copy of Rose's school photograph on their mantelpiece was both a symbol of their guilt and of their well-meaning intentions. It was this dilemma that made her hesitate as she studied the phone on her desk, wondering if she could pick it up and make the long-deferred connection. Her hand remained frozen in oppressive silence.

Suddenly a clattering sound interrupted the silence surrounding Trisha's indecision and Sally Anne strode actively into the room. She'd recently had her hair styled so the long dark hair which had been pulled back from her forehead now hung in a careless fringe down to her eyebrows and flowed down to her shoulders. Her neat suits had been exchanged for jeans and a T-shirt and contrasted with Trisha's blue suit. Sally-Anne immediately tuned into her partner's tense stillness and knew that she was called upon to investigate.

"What's wrong, lover of mine?" she asked very softly, placing her hands on Trisha's shoulders and lightly kissing the back of her head. It did the trick as Trisha exhaled a long sigh of relief and her swivel chair turned to face Sally so she could fully imbibe her reassuring presence. Of the two of them, Sally-Anne contributed a down to earth outlook and Trisha knew she was compelled to spit out her problems.

"This weekend is shaping up to be really special and we need Nikki and Helen to complete it. The trouble is that I could have done something about it, only I've dawdled and I'm sure I've left it too late," Trisha said, trying not to show how disconsolate she felt.

"It wouldn't harm to phone them, wouldn't it? They've never in a million years become estranged from us. It's just that we're all busy people especially with a child to bring up. You're thinking back a number of years ago when we were all involved in each other's business, usually a particularly traumatic trial and that kept us in close proximity and things have drifted in another direction. Knowing Helen in particular, they probably feel as guilty as we are," Sally-Anne said with loving reasonableness.

"So what do we do?" Trisha asked appealingly. She had mixed feelings as Sally's last observation only made her feel more guilty.

"Just make the call, Trisha. One of the four of us has to do it and it might as well be you as any of us," answered Sally-Anne slowly and persuasively.

A long pause elapsed while Trisha struggled with this dilemma, inhaling and exhaling her nervousness. She dismissed the fleeting wish for a cigarette to help her decide, having given up smoking years ago along with her smoker's cough. This was a challenge along with past challenges she'd risen to. Finally she was resolved; remembering how Nikki and Helen had been very gracious and supportive of them and memories of their contrasting voice timbres heightened her need for their good fellowship.

"Hi Nik, it's Trisha here. Thought I'd pop up out of nowhere to reconnect with old friends. I know it's been a time. Sally-Anne's sitting next to me," she found herself babbling nervously, running her free hand through her long blonde hair.

"Hey Trisha, it's really lovely to hear from you. Helen or I should have phoned you up years ago but hey, we're all still good friends, including Sally Anne," came that incredibly warm-hearted well-remembered voice, her affection overflowing the airwaves. Trisha felt a little dizzy, only being stabilized when Sally-Anne took a reassuring hold of her free hand. Nikki's voice took her back to when they were young and carefree, just starting out their independent lives in London's fast-paced city life and with the world and future at her feet.

"I'm really glad I phoned I was so nervous," stammered Trisha, endearingly to Nikki's ears while Sally-Anne continued to massage her spare hand.

"In one way, the passing time doesn't matter. What's important is that we're all together- oh yes and Rose as well," Nikki said eagerly.

Trisha realised that she had come to the crunch and, rather than carrying on with enjoyable pleasantries, she decided that she had to push ahead and come out with the invitation.

"It's lovely chatting to you but there's one thing I really wanted to do. I know it's short notice and I'm not sure what's possible but Sally-Anne and I would really love it if you and Helen could come out to Chix just like in the old days. One of those spontaneous things has happened as Karen and Beth, George and Alice and Jo Mills and Jane are all coming and we thought that you and Helen would make the evening perfect. Please say yes Nik," Trisha urged, talking at breakneck speed.

Unfortunately, this streak of enthusiasm backfired. Unknown to Trisha, her old friends had made an apparent virtue out of necessity and built up powerful homebird instincts. While they'd got past the paraphernalia of the pushchair and nappy changing phase a number of years ago, they'd become highly conscious that Rose was a developing creature in her own right who had especial need of stability and maternal responsibility. They were especially concerned that Rose wouldn't be victimised by small town attitudes because of who her parents were. They'd developed a psychological umbilical cord feeling which jarred against spontaneous actions which they'd done when they'd been a simple twosome. All these thoughts jangled up against each other inside Nikki's head and especially getting Cassie and Roisin to babysit at the last minute.

"We'd really love to come Trisha but I know we won't be able to get a last minute babysitter. It's a real shame but there you are," Nikki answered, feeling the tightness in her chest from having to act against her instincts. Trisha felt crushed by this rejection but managed to make a polite response and put down the phone.

Meanwhile, Helen had finished ironing the last of their shirts but her sharp ears had heard the conversation in the hallway and resolved to intervene. The look on Nikki's face warned Helen of what to expect.

"I suppose you think I could wave a magic wand and get a babysitter and see the rest of the gang. I'm sorry but it can't be done what with the problems Cassie and Roisin are having with Michael," said Nikki aggressively, her eyes shooting fire.

"You might be right but that's not the end of the matter. There's other ways we could see our friends," Helen answered in slow and even tones in the dimly lit hall and the stark layout. She knew that Nikki really wanted to see their old friends and needed calming down as she knew she couldn't.

"How do you mean?" Nikki asked, a puzzled frown on her face.

"I'm wary of phoning Roisin or Cassie up for the reasons you say especially as Roisin would feel guilty about saying no but it's their decision. If they can't make it, we're stuck. It doesn't stop us going over with Rose to see them or vice versa and fix things up another time. Let's face it, in these times people have busy lives and it's far too easy to let relationships and things slip. We've all got too much history over the years to ever stop being friends. You or I could phone Trisha back and suggest that. Now how does that grab you?" Helen said, articulating every syllable slowly and gently.

The smaller woman's clear and loving reasoning had its effect in unravelling the knotted thoughts and emotions that had trapped Nikki. For a number of minutes, she breathed in and out and just when she'd calmed down, Rose clattered in from the living room where she'd been doing some writing on the table.

"What's happening mums?" she asked anxiously.

"Nothing to worry about Rose. We need to make a phone call first and then we'll tell you what's going on," Nikki said in clear positive tones.

Rose calmly accepted the important thing that everything was all right between her two mums. She also knew that a promise was a promise and calmly trotted back to her own task in hand.

Nikki phoned Roisin calmly and her reaction was much as they had expected. Michael was being really obnoxious right now and, much as she and Cassie would have loved to look after Rose, it wasn't possible as they had their hands full. Helen looked on admiringly as her partner's humanity and generosity of spirit poured out gentle reassurance when she and Helen would have loved to hear a different answer. This made her dewy eyed and she put her arms round Nikki's shoulders, something that Rose peeked in on and made her smile happily to herself. Everything at home was safe and cosy.

The two women were gently hugging each other for a little while when a sharp arrow thought pricked Nikki's consciousness.

"Darling, we've forgotten all about Trisha. I must phone her back and put things right," she exclaimed into Helen's ear. The two women moved slightly apart and kissed affectionately.

"Hey Trish. I'm really sorry for the shitty way I spoke to you," Nikki said softly while she grasped the phone. On the other end of the line, Trisha and Sally-Anne had been sitting disconsolately in the office which now felt bare and chilly. When the phone rang, Trisha jumped a mile.

"That's really sweet of you. You always were honest," Trisha said tenderly.

"It's not that good news I warn you. I phoned our friend and neighbour who childminds for us but she's got teenage problems with her son so we're stuck for tonight. However, we really want to see you both so you can meet Rose and also see the rest of the gang at Chix when things settle down for childminding. All this is for real," replied Nikki

Sally-Anne saw at once how Trisha perked up and there were possibilities afoot. Her own connections with their friends went back a long while. She got to know Nikki as a valiant soul when she gave evidence at her original appeal and later found she and Helen as enjoyable company and as true friends.

"Shall we fix up a date when we can meet? We're as happy to drive over to your place as anything. You'll know that Sunday mornings are an intimate time for Sally and me so how about us coming to your place at twoish?" Trisha said with the greatest pleasure, reaching for her pen to write in her office diary which Sally thoughtfully passed over.

"That'll be great, Trish. Week on Sunday will be just fine," Nikki cordially suggested. Trisha heard Nikki give Helen a quick rundown to Helen a little distance away from the phone who grinned her agreement.

"You're really cheered us up Nik," Trisha said effusively and wrote down the details for sally's attention before signing off. All at once, their office looked purposeful and friendly after just one phone call.

On the other end of the phone, Helen scampered back into the living room to tell Rose that their oldest friends were coming over. The little girl smiled happily as she figured out that grownup company could be interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

Trisha and Sally-Anne had the Saturday night out party down pat over the years and all their staff knew what they were doing. They had to think in commercial terms of market forces of the pink pound and not just of their friends. The show had to go on and they socialised with all and sundry, giving of themselves and to make sure everyone was happy. Deep down, they hadn't forgotten the club's original mission that she and Nikki had mapped out.

The realisation that this night was when their oldest friends were coming out to party with them was a shot of adrenaline and made this evening feel special. They took longer to select their outfits and put on their makeup. However Trisha's train of thought that this was like a long time ago when she and Nikki had opened the doors to their club the very first time exposed the painful fact that Nikki and Helen wouldn't be here tonight. Her observant partner spotted the mood change in an instant.

"I'm looking forward to this evening as the start of something good like the whole gang getting back together again. Don't ever think that Nikki and Helen have forgotten their roots," Sally said with deliberate optimism.

"You think so? I'd try and convince myself that this is a rehearsal for the ultimate party but I'm still missing them," Trisha asked, her eyebrows raised questioningly as hopefulness and sadness battled it out. "It's a shame how we've all drifted apart to some extent over the years."

"None of us have been estranged. We're all insanely busy. In any case darling, we've got the chance to make the most of what we've got. I'd really love to see Nikki and Helen again but I also love the thought of those who will be there. I know we've got responsibilities to running the club but we can steal time to talk to our true friends," Sally Anne said with infinite compassion, delicately stroking Trisha's cheek with her fingertips. It had its effect.

"You're right babes. I used to be a bit of a spoiled brat, going into a sulk if my birthday party wasn't perfect," Trisha confessed with a soft smile turned at her down to earth partner. She sought out Sally's hand and squeezed it gratefully.

The club DJ was already starting to test out some new sounds she thought would go down well and the two women drifted down and grinned encouragingly. They felt this was the right mixture of seductive and propulsive. They were edging forward in time to the edgy excitement of the first of the customers entering the club and creating some atmosphere.

Outside, the first of the taxis disgorged their contents of scantily dressed women clicking along the pavement on their high heels and chattering excitedly. Amongst them, Karen and Beth linked arms affectionately, looking and feeling good. No sooner were they through the front door and proudly paying their dues when George made her stately way in her dress with a wicked slit up the side and Alice in her low cut lacy top and flimsy trousers who was gazing wide-eyed as she realised that distant memories had been printed on her mental DNA and at last she was home. Another taxi let out Jane Lancaster whose legs seemed to go on forever while Jo's sleek black dress only exposed a modicum of thigh. Her earlier promise to herself and Jane about to become the wicked lady of sex caused a nervous excitement to run through her system on top of anticipating the pleasure of meeting old friends.

"You sound in good spirits Jo. I admire your resilience after enduring Jackson's fearful incompetence," George observed, referring to their unfavourite judge who had given her a hard time in court the day before. George was propping herself up at the side of the bar with a large dry Martini after Jo had chattered away to her. The other woman was affectionately holding Jane's hand who was talking to a broadly smiling Karen.

"Well, there's no use in dwelling on minor reverses. A satisfying home life does wonders and makes all the differences. I'm sure that he like today's politicians only vent their prejudices and waffle on so incoherently as a substitute for good sex," Jo answered roundly.

George burst out laughing at Jo's witticism and began to realise that there was more than met the eye.

"Of course my ex who I do not name is the perfect example but you sound pretty satisfied with yourself Jo," George answered in her roundabout way of avoiding any mention of Neil Haughton's name. Looking in retrospect, one reason why she might have taken up with him in the first place was to wind up John Deed by selecting the man whom John would most detest. She couldn't think of another reason.

Both Karen and Jane exchanged meaningful smiles. They worked at St Mary's hospital as junior sister and nurse respectively and were both kept run off their feet. The only time they had a chance to chat was in the locker room which was strangely ideal to discuss intimate matters considering that it was a small bare room filled up with utilitarian metal cabinets. Their last meeting coincidentally was a day or so ago that Jane smirkingly announced their forthcoming shopping expedition on Jo's behalf.

"So you've persuaded the lovely Jo Mills to spread her wings further sexually speaking. I'm impressed."

"How does it feel to be on the receiving end as that'll be new for me. I'm a little nervous. You're the ideal woman to ask as you've both been married and straight in the past," Jane confessed.

"Was I?" Karen said to herself vaguely, feeling that was a lifetime ago. "If Jo's seriously thinking of it, she'll have wondered about it for a long time especially as it's been one way for years. Just ensure you're both feeling good and relaxed and romantic. I promise you the night after going to Chix is ideal." Jane brightened up in relief and both went on to conduct their official errands.

"Tonight is party night and something special for us all and I don't mind admitting I'm as excited as anyone. Are we going to have a quick drink, go upstairs to the VIP lounge or have a quick dance first?" Karen intervened breezily as they were all assembled with their drinks. This made George more inquisitive than ever but she thought she'd batten this down till she could investigate later on.

"That depends on our hosts," answered Jo politely, holding hands with her lover as Trisha and Sally-Anne worked their way purposefully through the crowd.

"It's lovely to see you all," a glowing Trisha exclaimed. "We haven't seen you for ages or at least it feels like ages. We've been running the show and doing a bit of socialising but we want to give you the choice of dance first or talk first. There's so much we want to catch up on."

A look of bemusement ran round the group as they felt really conflicted between the excitement of letting their hair down on the dance floor and catching up with badly needed socialising. Finally, George felt that her natural bossiness called for a valid outlet.

"We've got a choice between two different kinds of pleasure but if I've learnt anything, lovers and friends matter more than anything else in the world. I suggest we go up to the VIP lounge for no more than an hour and then get out on the dance floor."

A murmur of relief rippled round the group and Trisha and Sally-Anne smiled gratefully at their friend. They could see how the group had itchy feet. They led the way, stopping to ask their most long serving barmaid to hold the fort. Up the steps they clattered holding their drinks, none of them being desperate for an early refill. Once they were into the sanctum, they hugged and kissed each other emotionally as the first instinct that came to mind. For Trisha, this was a dream come true as she found herself threading her way through more than one conversation at a time, reminiscing fondly about their shared past. The series of court trials they'd been through or witnessed from the gallery inevitably related back to the two barristers who'd slaved so selflessly.

"Sweetheart, I really have difficulty relating your serious and dignified personage in court complete with wig and gown and smart suit with your really gorgeous outfit," Jane said pertly to Jo and was accompanied by a general round of applause. Jo Mills glowingly accepted the compliment.

"Well, all work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. I learned that one from George. She wears the same outfit in court as me," retorted Jo.

"Not quite. I'm surprised at your lack of observation. I wear sensible knee length skirts but with a slit up the side," George drawled, making sure to expose a generous display of thigh to make her point.

"No such luck for me or Jane unfortunately. We're both condemned to wear extremely practical blue outfits which I can't customize. Still, it means that we compensate by having hidden depths," said Karen quite innocently. Jane came close to spilling her drink at that point which wasn't unnoticed by George.

"Junior female journalists like myself are allowed to be sexy but not threatening and definitely not dominating in case some male egos are upset. The only guys relaxed around me in a platonic fashion are untidy old school socialists," observed Beth.

"This place has seen more women finding their soulmates than I can imagine," Alice said reflectively as she savoured the ambiance of women being together here or down on the dance floor. "I can still remember clapping my eyes on a certain blonde beauty who captivated me in no time at all." Sally-Anne cast a sideways glance at Trisha and knew that, behind her bright smile, a whole trainful of memories were moving irresistably down the track to an unstoppable destination. She squeezed her lover's hand affectionately.

"A lot had been going on in my head till then to make me question my choices in life. Once I took the step and soaked up the ambiance of this club, I saw a talk dark-haired stunner like Alice so I didn't wait to seduce her," purred George, mopping up the praise with a big grin and prompting Karen's later encounter with Beth. This shared reminiscence about women coming together brought them all closer. However, Trisha was struggling at this point and only with a wrench of her thoughts could she make them come out positive.

"Of course, when Nikki got her release from prison, she finally got together with Helen at this club when the barriers that had kept them apart finally came tumbling down. We ought to drink a toast to absent friends," Trisha proclaimed, raising her glass high. Through the dim lights, she could swear she could see Nikki's cool sophisticated shape and Helen's broad grin and low cut dress as twin spirits. The others could sense it as well.

"Absent friends," the group of women intoned with the last of their drinks.

"We owe them a lot for reeling us into our adventures, myself being first at her first appeal hearing. They might have come only they were stuck for a childminder as she had family problems," observed Sally with tactful adroitness to banish the perception that their old friends were permanently distanced and she proceeded to fill in the details..

A profound silence fell on the room. They didn't know these details and to most of them, the world of babysitters was a closed book. Jo was the first to speak.

"So another time, when we get together, a couple of us could babysit for them if their regular babysitter couldn't make it," Jo suggested brightly as old memories floated back in her mind when had to arrange this for her two sons. Karen and George exchanged glances. They had had mixed experiences childrearing and weren't confident of their maternal feelings so Karen bit the bullet and quietly suggested this to Jo. So the general conversation meandered along country roads while soft pulsing sounds started to register with their senses.

"We'll definitely have to come back another time with Nikki and Helen as well," George said, treating this as an inevitable fact of life to a general murmur of consent Trisha noted this as a good time to mention the upcoming Pride event when everyone was there..

When conversation fizzled out to a natural halt, George looked at her delicate silver watch and reminded them that the hour had elapsed.

"Trust a barrister to notice," grinned Karen at her friend. She wasn't complaining as she followed George down the staircase to the dancefloor, Trisha and Sally bringing up the rear in order to resume their duties. as they did so, Trisha marvelled how stunning their friends looked in their variations of femininity.

Karen looked gorgeous, Beth thought blissfully, as her broad smile, glinting blue eyes, silky fair hair falling over her shoulders were as captivating as ever not to mention her outstretched arms and gyrating ripe figure which encapsulated her fun-loving personality. They'd not danced for a long together and this evening recaptured what they'd been missing. The music and the surrounding ambiance of women dancing together wrapped Beth up in a heady mixture of pure pleasure. This was where she belonged, Beth thought, as she caught glimpses of their friends, each with her own very special movements that described their sexuality.

After a long while, Jo headed off to the toilet and George had a quick word with Beth who grinned and then followed after Jo to satisfy her nagging curiosity.

"I know you Jo Mills. You've been concealing a secret that I've been itching to find out about. You know how persistent I can be," she said, catching Jo by surprise as she was washing her hands. To her faint surprise, Jo threw up her hands in surrender with a bashful smile.

"All right, I really want to tell you as you've been concerned about my welfare these last few years."

"Your sexual welfare," corrected George in determined tones.

"I went shopping with Jane to buy a strapon for myself. I've been on the receiving end these last few years. Jane's very persuasive." As Jo spoke, she flinched at every word she spoke, irrationally and hypersensitively fearing for her friend's response

"I am really so glad for you Jo. It'll be one of the best things you've done in your life. I am sure you and Jane will love it as you are really close. That makes a difference."

Tears came into Jo's eyes at her friend's tender words and generosity of spirit. Secretly, she was afraid of being laughed at. She hugged the other woman warmly in silence for a few minutes before Jo finally found words to say.

"We've come a really long way since the old days," she said in a choked voice. "Bless you a thousand times."

After a companionable silence, George broached a matter that was troubling her.

"Your idea about childminding Rose is a very kind idea but I felt the finger pointed at me to do my share and probably the same for Karen. After all, we're all mothers," George said a little tensely, wishing that a cigarette was within reach.

"It's simple. It's a way of getting to know Rose without the big paraphernalia of 'the visit.' I'm not over-confident myself and I need to talk it over with Jane. If it pans out, I'll let you know how we get on without you feeling obligated to match it. Sounds reasonable?"

At last the mists cleared from George's sight. This was classic Jo Mills logic at work and she was ready to go with it.

"Come on George. Our women are waiting for us and so is the rest of the party," Jo added zestfully. The seductive sound of the music led them out of the toilet and across the dance floor. They noticed that Beth and Jane were gesturing to them with a glass held high.


	10. Chapter 10

Jane stumbled out of the front door of Chix and into the back of a black cab which had mysteriously appeared. They has danced the night away and had a fabulous time so that partings were made with definite promises of a next time. Inside the cab, Jo perched upright with a delightful "Home James" manner as she reeled off their address to the anonymous driver. Jo wrapped her arm around her lover's bare shoulderand ruffled her long blond hair, both being mildly and affectionately drunk. They were in a fuzzy secure space as the cab sped down the darkened streets and exchanged kisses oblivious of the outside world. At their destination, the two of them held each other up as they proceeded towards the front and headed off to the bedroom where Jo was confronted by her moment of decision.

"You're not too pissed darling?" Jane questioned as she sat on the bed, her voice soft and beguiling. Jo reflected over the situation and then gave voice.

"I've never used it before so I really need your help darling. I know I'll feel more comfortable with the bedside lights turned down low."

Jane's eyes glowed softly as she twisted round to do her lover's bidding and softly and lovingly, their lips and tongue tips carressed each others. They slipped off their dressed and Jane very gently eased the strapon into place. Just as Jo started to look dubiously at herself, Jane stepped in.

"Darling, you look as erotic as I do to you when I'm dressed up. I'll help you all the way believe me." The subdued light cast a soft, intimate shadowed world as Jane draped herself in the double bed in her most alluring fashion, her tousled long hair falling back over her shoulders. This irresistable vision of feminity soothed Jo's last

spasm of nervousness as she felt comfortable about herself and ushered in their preliminary tender manoeuves on their double bed, their long familiar home. A little thrill of pleasure welled up inside Jo as she kissed her lover's breasts and they started to carress each other. This is what she needed, Jane moaned to herself, as she sensed her partner's slowly growing confidence and sought to assist her by moving her legs apart.

"I've never been so totally on top of you like this," Jane said in a trembling voice which sounded in Jane's delighted ears as the thrill of the unknown and not negative scariness. Truth to tell, this was a new experience for herself but she trusted totally in Jo's sensitivity to her own needs.

"I just know you'll love every moment just as I always have. I know you'll be incredible," she breathed lovingly back to her lover who now knelt overhead. This gave the older woman the final access of confidence that she needed. Knowing just how she always felt when Jane penetrated her, she very delicately lowered herself down on her increasingly aroused partner who sighed and smiled blissfully as she first felt Jo's contact.

"Yes, everything will be gorgeous for us both," Jo said with soft confidence and her hips started to flex thanks to the feelings of security the two long term lovers brought to each other. She couldn't believe the positivity of how the love of her life had supplanted her past as dutiful wife, mother of two sons,on off lover of John Deed and Mel Bridges, femme fatale who now drifted off somewhere in uncharted mental space. This swirl of memories at one remove were swept away as she looked down at the loveliness in front of her eyes. She was on fire with desire and her hips gained more force as she pressed backwards and forth with her lover who started to wrap her long legs round nipples were hard and rubbed against each other and Jane was starting to cry out with intense pleasure.

"This is what I want. This is what I've dreamed of," breathed Jane as she felt the power of her lover's desire slide deep inside her.

"Does this feel good for you," an excited Jo asked hoarsely as she kissed her lover's face frantically, pushing against her lover's greedy desires.

"You're incredible darling and I feel so fantastic," reassured Jane with a snatch of spare air in her lungs, wrapping her legs passionately round her lover as both women surged upwards in a sexual climb together. The timeless delirium finally climaxed with shuddering sensations which brought both women in a long slow decline in a state of exhausted satiation.

Time seemed to last forever as they became gradually aware of the softly lit darkness and the gorgeous feeling of their skin against each other. It was heavenly.

"Now I know why you love me being inside you forever after we've made love," laughed Jane softly as she ran her fingers along the countours of her lover's shapely back. She loved the way Jo softly stroked her own face and hair and felt complete. She looked with wonder at the contours of her lover's pixie face cast by the low lights topped off by her bob haircut and ruffled hair falling over her forehead. At that moment Jo Mills looked so exquisite and was a million times worth the slow period of seduction.

"I love being here. It makes me feel so good inside," murmured Jo, giving her lover a long, slow soft kiss her lover once again as a token of her deep affection.

Jo took the weight of her upper body raising herself up on her elbows. This gave her the chance to slide her hands over her Jane's gorgeous breasts and jutting nipples. This made Jane chuckle affectionately at her lover's endearing little touches. The two women lay there for what seemed to be a long time, divorced from preoccupation.

"You haven't got any more carnal secrets under your hat?" joked Jo at last. Nevertheless, Jane knew it was a serious question and should be treated so even though both were in a delicious poast-orgasmic glow.

"I'm only interested in lovemaking that's about love and affection. Anything else isn't for me and this is the one other thing that makes for perfection believe me. You better believe me that I love being underneath just as much as being on top. It depends how we feel," Jane said in a slow ruminative tone of voice.

"That suits me just fine. Every which way suits me fine," Jo said with great satisfaction, slightly flexing her hips to make her point. The atmosphere felt so deliciously intimate that she laid her head against her lover's shoulders. Jane murmured gently and kept softly stroking her lover's trim hair and slid the inside of her thigh against that much desired body. The two women started to drift in and out of a dreamlike state except their absolute reality was marked by affectionate thrusts against each other. Edging into a new area of intimacy drew both women closer together especially as Jane felt deliciously moist drifted on and a long time later on, a sleepy Jo whispered into the ear a physically exhausted Jane.

"I'm really sorry but I have to withdraw and get settled down for the night. it's a shame as I'm really used to it."

"There has to come the time. Even I've never considered walking down the street and bumping into Jac Naylor," mumbled Jane naughtily. The incongrous mention of the unfavourite power mad registrar made Jo laugh. She eased herself out gradually, disassembled herself and got back into bed with Jane's arms wrapped round her from behind. This was such a perfect world.

Even at her tender age, little Rose could read the emotional weather around her and on Saturday night after dinneer, she could feel that both of her mummies were sad for a readon she couldn't work out. There was a lot in her life she didn't understand, mostly what her mummies did at work except that they did good things. What mattered is that she couldn't imagine either of them being other than what they appeared to be. She loved to work things out only when she needed to. For instance, other families had mummies and daddies who sometimes didn't live together while she had two mummies who loved each other and loved her as much as anything. This was the way her family chose to be and was it wrong that her family was different? She knew that the obvious answer was no, especially as Michael and Niamh also had two mummies. She was happy even if other people weren't.

She remembered them talking on the phone to their friends the other day and they were cheered up by the fact that they were coming to visit next weekend and everything was all , while she was wearing her favourite fluffy slippers and pyjamas and watching a fairy story on TV, she could feel the mood setting in. Finally, she posed the question in her blunt fashion that sometimes made Nikki and Helen blink. After all, she was brought up to tell the truth.

"I'm sorry we're a bit miserable Rose," Nikki finally said carefully choosing her words."We got an invitation to go to a grownups party with our old friends but Cassie and Roisin are having problems with Michael so we are staying in. There'll be another time."

"If I can go round to my friend's bithday party and you stay in, why shouldn't you go to your friend's party and I stay in?" questioned Rose with withering logic. Nikki's mind froze over at this point and Helen came to the rescue.

"Sweetheart, it's not as easy as all that. There are all sorts of rules we can't ignore. I could drive safely over the speed limit and ignore the warning signs. There are also rules against us going out at night and leaving you on your own, especially if anything went wrong. We can't take that chance."

"So you might get black marks? Is it because you're two mummies?" questioned Rose. The TV programme was ignored as Rose's inquisitive mind was engaged with something much more interesting.

"The black marks we might get are very black. Being two mummies might not help," Nikki answered with masterly understatement and unflinching honesty which Rose immediately understood.

"One of you play drafts with me and do something different?" she suggested in her prettiest manner. This was her latest enthusiasm that Nikki's father had introduced her to on a visit to their house. The man who to his mind wasn't old yet was delighted by his granddaughter's mathmatical mind and he had a number of battles royal with her. He had made a mental note to teach her chess a few years down the line.

Sighing patiently, Nikki crouched down on the carpet, knowing that she would most likely lose more games than she won. Helen smiled at her partner's discomfiture and watching the two of them cross swords was entertaining and kept them from thinking about the night out they were missing.

As the hours slowly ticked away in the soft quietness of their flat. They knew they were doing right by their daughter and when the sleepy child settled down for the night, they turned to each other tenderly.

"I suppose a bit of quiet lovemaking shouldn't rouse Rose's insatiable curiosity too much," Helen said softly, smiling at her partner in the gentle all embracing glow of their bedroom.

"Sooner or later, we're going to to devise an alternative version of the birds and the bees to explain how two mummies keep each other happy and loved and how Rose came into the world," Nikki said with her typical back-handed humour.

"But when we're between the sheets," Helen said seductively, starting to unbutton Nikki's shirt," we're not two mummies. We're Helen and Nikki who've been lovers for a long time. We should be careful of our identities."

"Darling, I feel the same way too," the taller woman said, reaching round her back to unzip Helen's dress. The two women kissed each other tenderly and the rest of their clothes were lightly discarded on the floor. They slipped into their bed with fond sighs of pleasure and the joys of physically reconnecting with each other. They softly ran their hands over each other's bodies and Nikki moved down her lover's body, questing for the intimate spaces which she knew so well. She was delighted how Helen whispered sweet endearment as she gradually worked her up to a slow intense orgasm. Then it was Helen's turn to express her passionate desire for her lover and their bodies moved over and around each other with the confidence of long experience, stealing time to reassure each other of their love. When Helen finally broke surface from immersing herself in her lover's intimate spaces, she moved back into the delightful feel of Nikki's arms. Their mouths sought out each others for a long, deep kiss, their tongues caressing each other as they gloried in the pleasures of how good each other only separated when their lungs were at bursting point. It took a long while for the two women's breathing to finally return to normal as they drank in the peaceful intimacy of the night.

"Rose hasn't woken up. Sooner or later, we're really going to have to talk about our version of the birds and bees that she'll understand. We're not really catered for," chuckled Nikki as Helen's hand rested across the taller woman's breast while her head snuggled against her neck.

"I'd better tidy up our clothes as normal," mumbled Helen against the taller woman's skin before raising her head."Right fools we'll look if Rose comes into our bedroom early, after the way we fuss about keeping her bedroom straight."

The smaller woman slipped out and replaced their clothes in drawers and wardrobes while Nikki gazed fondly on the other woman's naked body, silhouetted against the outside light as she drew closer to her. The smaller woman felt the chill air on her skin and she loved being naked before her lover.

"I love you so much Helen. Bedroom talk shouldn't have to just be about children," she murmured affectionately.

"I love you too. The evening's been all right after all," Helen said, sliding into the bed and kissing Nikki softly on her lips.

"What about my breasts?" Helen asked in a small beseeching voice.

"Anytime,darling. You're so gorgeous all over I'm so spoilt for choice in lusting after you," the taller woman murmured pulling the other woman close as she buried her head between her lover's prized shapeliness while her fingers went expertly to work. As her lips savoured the nearest diamond hard point, Helen murmured sweet endearments. When Nikki finally came up for air, the other woman grinned fondly.

"My turn now sweetheart. I couldn't think of a more luscious piece of womanhood that I'd want to get my legs around," breathed Helen, with the beloved turn of accent shaded by lust. As their bodies twisted around each other and her lips fastening on Nikki's left nipple, both women knew that the night held more pleasures in store for them especially as Helen's hand moved purposefully down the length of her lover's body..

"I suppose we'd better put on our nighties," Nikki finally said in an expressionless voice while they lay curled up in contentment round each other.

"Why should we? Why not sleep naked like we used to?" Helen urged with a smile on her face and her hand resting against Nikki's long flank.

"So if Rose comes in early tomorrow, she'll see us looking very happy together and loving. I could be easily persuaded," Nikki answered speaking her thoughts aloud into the intimate darkness.

"It'll edge our way into the birds and bees thing. You wonder just how much she talks to Niamh. we'll try it for tonight," Helen said in her most irrestibly persuasive textures of her Scottish accent.

"Let's do it darling. You feel so much nicer to the touch without anything in the way," Nikki said gleefully, kissing her lover gratefully..She fancied the possibilities of one day at a time.

Sure enough, Rose woke up bright and early and happy in herself so it was natural for her to share her feelings with her two mummies. She pottered into their bedroom to be mildly surprised to see two sleeping forms when they were normally early birds. Nikki's face wore a happy smile as her bare arm lay against mummy's shoulder. All that

could be seen of mummy was the side of her face and a bare leg sticking out from a folded triangle of quilt.

"Hi mummies," Rose called out cheerily. She was a little surprised as the grownups mumbled and shuffled under the quilt.

"Do you want anything Rose? If you do, you'll have to pass mummy's nightie out of the drawer so I can get up," Nikki answered anxiously, figuring that their daughter needed their help.

"I just want to say what a lovely day it is. I'm going to watch television. I won't disturb," Rose replied with a gentle smile on her lips as she felt the happiness emanating from them.

"That's all right as Nikki and I are going to have a quick shower together to freshen up

and then we're having breakfast," Helen said in her carrying voice. Right now, she felt she could do anything, well at least when she got her eyelids properly unglued and a strong mug of coffee into her system


	11. Chapter 11

Claire Walker's easy manner had enabled her to quickly gain authority when she took over the running of the law practice seven years ago after the previous practice head, Jim Patterson had been convicted over his involvement in a mortgage fraud ring. It had helped that she'd worked solidly away while being in Jim Patterson's shadow. She had won the practice considerable respect from respected barristers in the criminal field for her work for the Nikki Wade appeal amongst others. Aside from one or two solicitors who jumped ship in a huff, she had good relationships with the other solicitors including John Wade who was eternally grateful for her putting him on the right lines. While she was perfectly happy with his work, she had become concerned how a bitter long running dispute with his separated wife had started up since his marriage breakdown. One day, she passed him a friendly word for him to pop into her office for a chat. It didn't take too long for the tired man with hollows under his eyes to spill the beans.

"I ought to tell you that I'm separated from my wife who has the children and I can foresee a battle over access and the terms of the divorce. It's going to get nastry and personal but I'll pull in time for the legal work and my existing caseload," John said, tension radiating from him from the emotional load in his shoulders.

"You're not, you know. You should know the first rule to never represent yourself even if you do have the technical knowledge. You're too emotionally close to the situation to do it full justice," Claire said gently with firm persistence.

This took the wind out of John's sails. He'd been so centred on the idea of fighting his malignant wife through the court using the tools of his trade that he couldn't think what to say when he was stopped from doing this.

"You're a client and I'm representing you all the way and do my level best. I'll do it at a notional figure and this'll take the weight off you. It'll stop you getting stressed out or you'll be swallowed up, believe me. It is for the best, believe me," Claire continued tenderly.

John mopped his brow which had started to sweat and he gratefully accepted the glass of water offered him. As he thought about it, he came to think that Claire was right. He needed the weight of the world taking off his shoulders and for the first time in ages, he smiled slightly.

"Perhaps you fill me in on how this situation has come to pass and just what makes your wife tick," offered Claire gently. This was where John was able to help out and his thought strayed back to when a young inhibited conventionally ambitious man met his counterpart, settled down and raised two children who were appropriately brought up only for John to change by degrees so that he became a stranger to his marriage.

Several weeks later, John Wade strolled into Claire's room feeling comfortable and relaxed since destiny was taken away from him. This room had become a sanctuary since he first started work for the practice. He noted Claire's puzzled exspression but thought little of it.

"Take a seat John. I wanted you to ask you if you've been able to see your children as you said you wanted to, how often you see them and how you've got on," Claire asked him politely.

"I visit on Saturdays every week. My children are a bit upset aqs Gill and I aren't under the same roofs. They're used to the usual man, wife and two point four children. They're glad to see me and we get on fine. My wife is around all the time and creates a bad atmosphere and doesn't let me take our children out on my own. It's not been easy but I've persevered and I've tried to keep the peace," John said slowly and with some difficulty.

"Would you be surprised that your wife's solicitor seeks to oppose your access to your children without explaining why?" Claire said with soft precision, looking John full in his eye.

John was thunderstruck by the news. He wasn't prepared for this latest blow. A sick feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach.

"But why? What have I done wrong?" he exclaimed.

Claire smiled cautiously. The letter she'd received was suspiciously vague and she'd pursued the matter relentlessly with Gill Wade's solicitor.

"This is off the record for the moment and if I divulge this to you, you must promise to behave strictly professionately," Claire said in firm tones. This resonated with Wade family values so he was duty bound to adhere to his promise.

"Gill Wade's concern is that your children are brought up conventionally. She thinks that if you get shared custody, your children 's contact with Nikki's family will compromise her ideas for bringing up children. her solicitor's words and not mine," Claire replied with dry precision.

John was dumbstruck for several long minutes. He remembered the chilly recepton given to his sister, Helen and Rose over the years but he'd never expected this vicious and underhand move especially when his sister's family were entirely guiltless. Finally, he found his voice.

"This is outrageous. In every important way, Nikki and Helen are very conventional in the way they're bringing up Rose and are brilliant parents on any level .Besides , my daughter Gail is thirteen and my son Peter are fifteen and it's obvious to me that that they're getting into their teens and taking their own path. It's a shame that they've been standoffish with Rose over the years and I couldn't prevent that," John exclaimed in a stream of emotional outpouring. At that moment, Claire thought fondly how John and his sister Nikki are more similar than she'd ever suspected as he normally kept his emotions under wraps.

"Just relax John," Claire replied in easy soothuing tones."I've indicated that refusing access is not a runner. Sooner or later, her solicitor will get her to see sense."

"So what do I do in the meantime? Do I continue visiting my children and pretend everything's all right? What if she starts talking to me about access?"John stumbled, feeling disorientated.

"You know her better than I as to how she'll react. The main thing is that you carry on as before and don't get drawn into any discussion. She started taking legal proceedings so the whole thing's left to be discussed between solicitors," Claire said reassuringly.

John thought for a moment. She had always been a domineering woman and in the days when he'd shared their ideas, he'd let her get on with it while he'd concentrated on his career. He now saw that a lot of factors had got him to change his ideas but his rapprochment with Nicola had been a major factor in their relationship breaking down in showing him what she was really like.

"She'll try it on, I'm sure. I'd better be ready for her that's all," John said calmly of the woman he'd lived with for years and was only just starting to know.

When John went back to his flat, a let down feeling stole over him. The rooms in his flat felt very quiet and he missed the sense of family life around him and he did his best not to think too much about how his children were growing up without his active presence. When he woke up in the morning, he felt more purposeful and lost himself in the intricacies of his work. When Saturday morning dawned, this was the day he saved up his parenting on one go, including all the conversations he'd been missing out on now that Gail and Peter were leaving childhood behind.

However, his the emotional trajectory of his visit followed a depressingly downwards path despite his best efforts. Gail and Peter were visibly awkward and uncommunicative despite his access of good feeling, positivity and interest in heir goings on. Gill was cold and hostile without actually being rude and the two of them didn't have much to talk about anyway. As he glanced round the living room, he took in the bookshelves he'd drilled into the wall to secure and the last coat on emulsion he'd slapped on with a roller and it all seemed so far behind in the past. He didn't find it easy to throw the weight of negativity off his shoulders but he tried. Gill dished out the roast dinner just as she had done in the old days but gestued to him not to carve the joint as was his wont. The atmosphere remained cold and formal, the children fidgeting towards the end.

"Can we go off and see our friends?" Peter asked with just the right touch of restrained impatience, not looking at his father. Gill nodded her head and the two teenagers scooted off.

"Gail and Peter aren't exactly enthusiastic about your visits. I wonder why you still bother," Gill said, attempting to sound deadpan and factual. John's sharpened senses spotted a fractional intonation in her voice which gave the game away.

"They're in their teens and it doeswn't help that we've broken up. With me out of the picture, they'll obviously follow your lead. Besides, I never get a chance to take them out on my own, do something with them and maybe they'd relax more,"John answered in measured tones.

The twitch of annoyance at the corner of Gill's mouth told John that he'd guessed right, Funny that he'd never noticed these details when they were under the same roof."

"If you want access to the children then you'll be where I can keep an eye on things," she answered coldly.

"Then there's nothing more to be said. Thanks for the meal. I'll be back next week,"John said with an effort of self-control. He let himself out of his old front door and drove off down the road without looking back.

As soon as he'd put some miles between himself and what used to be his home, he pulled over to the side and phoned Nikki on his mobile. A warm rush of relief flowed through his senses as he heard her friendly, relaxed greeting and he talked at express speed.

"Hey John, you've had a rough time of it. Why don't you come over for a cup of tea and a chat?"

"There's nothing I'd love better right now," he answered with heartfelt emotion. It showed how he'd been so frozen and constrained up till now. Smiling happily, he figured out where he was and turned towards the warm shelter of Nikki and Helen's flat.

As John entered the door, his sister greeted him with a big smile and a hug, followed by Helen and this lifted his spirits just when he needed it.

"It's Uncle John," Rose exclaimed with a big grin on her face and she took him by the hand and led him to the living room. thank god someone appreciates him, he couldn't help thinking. Since his marriage breakiup, he'd become free to visit Nikki and Helen on his own and wondered what on earth lay behind Gill's unreasoning prejudice that had stopped these visits till now. Once again, the splash of warm emotional and physical colours healed and bathed his senses.

"Thanks so much," John said to Helen with her winning smile and excellent mug of tea."Everything here feels so normal, so homelike. Better than where I've just been."

His disconsolate tone of voice registered with sharp pairs of female ears and Nikki was the first to chime in.

"Having Gill's company must be wearing but your children must get something positrive out of it."

John took in an intake of breath and launched into an account of how sad and guilty he felt that his own children were rejecting him, that he couldn't feel natural with them no matter how hard he tried. He was starting to question the value and point of his visits which were getting him down. Rose sat on Nikki's lap, solemnly taking it all in.

"Michael's like that Uncle John. Roisin and Cassie are his two mummies, same as for Niamh, his sister. He's become a teenager and he's really changed. He used to be bit like a nice big brother and doesn't want to know me now. He's moody and grumpy to me and everyone. Not like Niamh. She's younger. Stands to reason Gail and Peter have gone the same way," observed Rose with great solemnity and the expressive child-like use of her hands.

There was a pause as this observation sank in and John turned his attention to his niece.

"You're a very bright and caring girl, Rose. Thank you so much," he said tenderly, having had some of the weight of his guilt unexpectedly lifted from his shoulders.

"No problem. I don't charge. Suppose you have a game of draughts with me?" Rose said with her india rubber flight of thought to affectionate laughter from the two women.

"Just how good is Rose?" John asked nervously of Nikki and Helen.

"Dad taught her and loved it. She's a quick learner. He hasn't told us but I know he's planning to teach her chess in a few year's time," Nikki answered laconically.

"Oh God. That means you're lethally good," Joan groaned comically.

"Come on, Uncle John. You'll enjoy it," Rose teased which sent Helen into gales of laughter.

"All right then," John conceded as the little girl got out her prized board and box of counters, pointing to the living room carpet for him to crouch down to her level. With a curious sense of reverting to a distant childhood, John willingly complied. It crossed his mind that, during all the years he'd conflicted with his sister, he'd been somewhat cold and inexpressive in relation to the world around him and particularly his children. He had been changing over the last few years and it wasn't too late to learn. He wasn't going to let his pride stand in the way of learning from this remarkable child who possessed a happy blend of elements of his two friends even if he stood to lose every game.

To John, the day was lively and full of emotional nurturing and drew in after a tasty evening meal of home made curry and rice and the four of them settled down for a restful evening. John started getting restless, wondering if he ought top head on home when he didn't want to move from the comfort of his armchair. Nikki looked sideways at her brother and read the man's thoughts. the poor guy was lonely but it wouldn't harm to put him up for the night,.

"John, you look so comfortable that you might as well crash on the settee if you want to," Nikki asked in her polite, pleasant manner.

"You mean it?" he asked, hardly daring to believe his luck.

"I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't mean it. Helen feels the same." That was Nikki all over, he thought affectionately, which made dealing with her so easy.

"That means that he can read me a bedtime story, won't it mummies?" put in Rose with a pleasing smile. John glanced at the two women and laughed affectionately in agreement. It took him back to happier days with his own children and was such an eaasy choice.

A little while later, John found himself curled up on the surprisingly comfortable sofa and his sister was tucking him in with the quilt that she'd retrieved from somewhere.

"This feels like the old days for me as John Deed has crashed out on this sofa on a couple of occasions. I'll turn out the light for you, right?" Nikki said fondly. From his perspective, she towered over him and this felt right. He liked being looked after in this way. His whole experience of this part of the day made him feel wanted and valued as never before.


	12. Chapter 12

Two women and a little girl stood in a group outside their large flat on a sunny Sunday morning, a breeze ruffling their hair. They were huddled around the open car window where John Wade sat, who was looking noticably cheerful. The previous evening and the morning had been emotionally nurturing and stabilizing for him.

"We'll keep in touch with each other, yeah, either your place or ours or a quick lunchtime drink. Just remember, don't let Gill push you around or pull a fast one on you," Nikki urged in her gentle voice.

"Right, Nicola. I've had such a lovely time. I won't forget," John answered cheerily. He was sure that his positive frame of mind wouldn't sink under him once he'd returned to his flat. The little group stood on the pavement and waved as John 's car morored off down the road and was lost to sight.

"Right Rose. Nikki and I have a lot of housework to catch up with before our friends come, Trisha and Sally-Anne," Helen said, her hands on her hips.

"I think I can remember them calling. It was a long time ago. They're nice," Rose said, a look of concentration playing on her face as she checked her memory.

The two women exchanged surprised glances as they couldn't recall the visit. It signified that their daughter was growing up fast and was surprising them with what she knew. It was getting to the point that nothing was more constant than change. They set to work cleaning, hoovering and ironing while Rose decamped to her bedroom and was prompted to rearrange her fluffy toys, combs and brushes and the books she was starting to collect. In the middle of all this activity, the phone rang. It was Trisha.

As Sally-Anne had driven them over to their destination, it crossed her partner's mind that her experience of children was virtually zilch. Her whole life had been spent amongst women of all shapes and stripes. All her chatting, comforting, bonding and flirting had been adult conversations and the thought of encountering a child made her nervous. It had been a long time since she'd been one herself and was foreign territory, ancient memories buried deep and beyond recall. She'd visited Helen and Nikki in hospital when Rose was born and that was a wonderful bonding experience and had made a visit in passing some time later.

Once Trisha had nervously crossed the threshold of their friends' flat, she and Sally -Anne exchanged kisses as normal, took in the homely atmosphere and then came to a mental dead stop. Their attention was riveted by a little girl a long way down with longish slightly tousled brown hair cut in a fringe over her forehead, the sharpest green eyes imaginable and an endearing smile. Trisha stammered out hers and Sally-Anne's introduction and the following words escaped her mouth unbidden.

"Do you know, I've beren really nervous about meeting you? I'm really not used to children," the normally self-possessed woman confessed to her friends.

"Oh, I'm not scary. Some people find me scary but that's only because they don't understand. I guess I'm a little different," Rose chirped away in her friendliest manner.

A beaming smile spread across the fair-haired woman's face as she adjusted herself to this girl's level.

"Do you know you make a lot of sense. I like what you say."

"I'm Sally-Anne," called out the dark-haired woman from out of Trisha's shadow

"Two names? That's unusual," Rose asked, her curiosity immediately engaged in what she'd not come across before.

"My mother liked both names, couldn't make up her mind which to choose so she chose both. It makes sense once you've got used to it," the hark-haired woman found herself explaining something she'd pulled out of the memory bank.

"Sounds right to me. I've got two family names Stewart and Wade after my mummies. Not everyone gets it," the little girl said in her laconic fashion that impressed the two women in the way she was comfortable her identity.

This was the ice breaker that drew the five of them into the kitchen for a welcoming cup of tea and a glass of orange squash for Rose. They chatted awhile on this pleasant day when everything felt good, the sun shining in from the back garden.

"Want to play hopscotch?"Rose suddenly asked, warming to these two pleasantly understanding grownups. It seemed the obvious thing to do.

"I well, err,"Trisha started to say when Sally-Anne intervened.

"We've not done it for years. Suppose you show us," she said as ancient memories came back into her mind. Besides, she'd always been a bit of a daredevil.

"Nice idea Rose but we can't use the back garden and you need a decent pavement," Nikki intervened, wanting to be practical.

"What about the pavement outside the house? It's wide enough. I mean,is anything or anyone going to stop us?"Rose countered with devastating logic. Out of the mouthes of babes, the dark-haired woman thought to herself with a spreading grin on her face that Rose spotted along with mummy's suppressed smile.

"We'll come with you just to make sure," Nikki said with a little grin on her face as ideas were stirring in her mind.

With great satisfaction, Rose disappeared into her bedroom and found a piece of white chalk and a smooth round yellow piece of stone she'd retrieved in her explorations. She scampered towards the front door, leading the way with her eye on the broad stretch of pavement. Once outside with a crowd of grownups around, she looked questioningly at mummy.

"Go ahead Rose. We're with you. You know what you're doing," Helen called out in her gentle reassuring manner. She knew that Rose had moments of self-doubt no matter how she appeared on the surface. With a grin of gratitude, Rose masterfully marked out the eight boxes and numbered them firmly. When she'd finished, she carefully explained to Sally-Anne, her most willing accomplice the rules of the game who was imbued with a sense of excitement in rediscovering her lost past. Both Helen and Nikki grinned at their daughter's great solemnity and watched as she threw the stone into the chalked out markings and proceeded to go first.

The little girl carefully flighted the stone into the air to drop it where she had chosen. With practiced agility, she hopped from square to square on one leg, twisted around at the end and bent to scoop in the stone one-handed and with one final hop, finished with a grin of triumph.

"Remember, you can't touch any of the lines," Rose reminded Sally-Anne relentlessly.

"But I'm taller than you and my feet are bigger," protested the woman to this artful child.

"You're bigger and stronger than me. In any case, I made the squares extra big. You'll do fine I bet you," Rose persisted with a winning smile.

Sally-Anne measured the squares with her eye and figured out that Rose was possibly right but she doubted her own skill. Suddenly, she reached for her nerve with both hands and launched off with ungainly determination to begin with but ancient long forgotten instincts came to her aid. With great effort, she hopped all the way, long hair flying in the wind and arms waving, scooped in the stone with a supreme effort and breathlessly finished, pink-faced and eyes glowing. She wanted to do it all over again.

"Hey this is fantastic. Thanks Rose," she said a little breathlessly.

Nikki moved next into line with a grin on her face and limbered herself up. She was sure it would all come back to her as she remembered how she always beat her brother John at this game. Helen and Trisha conferred amongst themselves tentatively considering the matter.

"Thought you would Nikki," smiled Rose at the sportier of her two mummies

Wearing her favourite denim jeans and black T-shirt, Nikki looked ready prepared and she agilely hopped across the squares with her arms poised for balence and with a practiced flick set course for the return journey with obvious flair and a broad grin on her face, sparkling eyes and wind ruffled hair.

"I loved it. Just like old times," she said nonchalently.

"Showoff," retorted Helen and Trisha in unison while mentally vowing not to be outdone. There was a palpable air of excitement amongst the growing crowd and all everyday cares were twemporarily banished. None of them thought twice about the blank-faced windows who might have been looking at them. This was all harmless kids stuff.

Deep inside their flat, Cassie and Roisin were locked into yet another wearisome, energy draining argument with Michael which had formed into an unending pattern, conflict without end. He'd become unkempt and this formed the first battle of the day qhich made Roisin shrill with frustration. He'd always been reasonably tidy but he had become a fourteen year old teenager and a stranger, his room was strewn with discarded clothing, coke cans and cheap magazines. another bone of contention was the new friends he hung around with and on the rare occasionsd they called round, their manner was scornful and contemptuous without actually saying anything they could pin them down on. Even Cassie was being drawn into becoming sharp-tongued as her relaxed authority was starting to fray. On the other hand, Niamh was starting to withdraw into herself and was quietly resentful how the family was startuing to revolve round Michael's moods and that her goodness was rewarded by her being thrust into the background. a tense atmosphere swirled around the spiritual gloom of the wasn't what she'd wanted for the family, Roisin miserably considered when she'd moved next door to their friends and she remembered having driven them to hospital when Rose was born. Finally, Niamh took herself away from the living room which was starting to get her down and she went off to her mothers' bedroom. At least it was coloured white and pure and a place where love still lived. She also loved looking out of the two large bay windows at the world outside which made her wonder who she was and how she counted in it where questions about her identity and introspective self doubts were starting to trouble her.

It was at that moment that she saw figures outside that to her idle gaze looked like a print of a Lowry painting her art teacher had shown her. A moment later, she rubbed her eyes and couldn't believe what she saw. Four grownups and a little girl were cavorting about in a carefree fashion playing hopscotch and calling out excitedly to each other, three of whom she recognised. It was like catching a rerun of a film she'd once engaged with when she was a happy, carefree child. Suddenly her mind was made up. If these grownups could play, so could she and so could her mummies. as for Michael, that was up to him, she gestured dismissively as he'd become an alien.

"Right, that's it. We should be doing something completely different. Rose and her two mummies and their two grownup friends are playing hopscotch outside. We'd feel so much happier joining their game. All this endless arguing is getting us nowhere."

The unexpected force of Niamh's intervention stopped everything dead. Michael looked sullen and resentful that this threatened to take attention off him while Cassie and Roisin were open-mouthed. After a few moments of wondering what to do, Cassie was the first to collect her wits. She was sick of the whole situation.

"Let's see for ourselves what's going on from our bedroom. I'm interested,"Cassie said with bright enthusiasm.

"I'm not coming. Sounds boring,"Michael said, trying to squash this diversion from his needs.

This was the moment that something in Roisin snapped. She'd been pulled in different directions, including her own suppressed needs so she reaised her hands to her head in distress.

"I can't stand it anymore," she shouted, her eyes swivelling around.

"Come here with me Roache. We need to talk," Cassie answered, taking the lead with her gentle but forceful voice and laying her hand on her partner's arm This was the moment of looked away while Niamh caught Roisin's eye.

"Running away?" Michael sneered, looking on disapprovingly.

"We're going to have a private talk. our decision," Cassie shot back, directing a look of sleet at the lad.

"You can't have your own way all the time Michael," Roisin said with curious calm, the mists starting to clear from her eyes as Niamh's suggestion started to look unbearably attractive.

A couple of minutes was all it took for the two women to decide. Roisin strode back into the living room with a determined air at which point Niamh filtered in from her own bedroom. With arms folded across her chest, Roisin delivered her verdict.

"Right, for once in our lives for a long time, we're going to enjoy ourselves and join the game."

"That's great mummies," Niamh said eagerly, fixing them with their joyous eyes.

"I'm not coming," Michael said sullenly. He'd well and truly boxed himself in and he couldn't lose face.

"And why?" Roisin demanded with sharp precision.

"I don't want to," came the predictable response.

"That's fine by me. If you stay in, I want to see your room tidy. If you go out to your friends, you'll be back when I say or you'll be grounded. That's our decision. In the meantime, we're joining in with the fun outside," Roisin retorted with firm determination before leading the way out of their front door to be welcomed unselfconsciously into the game..

An hour or so later, Rose was lying the full length of the settee sucking her thumb which was the sign of her tiredness. Her cushion was her mummies' laps on of whom stroked her hair affectionately. She waved her hand casually to her two playmates who smiled affectionately back at her. The day's activities made her feel that she knew them very well. She thought kindly of Cassie, Roisin and Niamh who had acted like big sister and friend all over again.

Eventually, the clock was ticking away the day in Trisha's and Sally Anne's mind as they had a club to run and they had to make a move.

"So you'll come back another time and play? I really like you both," Rose said in a sleepy voice.

"We've had such a great day. We're both busy but we'll make time to come over again. We're only sorry we've not seen much of you before,"Trisha explained carefully as she and Sally-Anne marvelled howe this very remarkable creature had taken them out of themselves and how they'd missed out on so much till now.

"Doesn't matter. We're friends now,"came the devastatingly simple yawn mixed with a yawn.

"Hey, we thought you'd come to see Nikki and I as well,"joked Helen at the way their daughter had adopted them. It raised a general laught.

"What were you doing? Everyone was looking at you," came the first blast of sourness as a wind-blown Roisin, Cassie and Niamh burst laughing into the living room where the lad sat brooding on his problems.

"They might but we don't care. What's the problem with child's games? No point worrying what the world might think of you. I got over that one when Cassie and I got together," Roisin said carelessly. She and Cassie had beel welcomed with open arms when Helen and Trisha had needed a breather and, well, it was what a crowd of cooperative children did best.

Something in the texture of Michael's expression told Cassie that he was burdened by a set of worries he was suppressing at an age when some teenagers become self-conscious. All his unpleasantness was displaced from elsewhere onto them. She, Roisin and Niamh resolutely continued to be cheerful in their homely surroundings feeling tired in a pleasant, self-satisfied fashion.

The five of of them were standing by Trisha's and Sally-Anne's car when suddenly, a reason for their visit came back to Trisha's mind. All the simple uncomplicated fun of the day had swept everything from her normally well-organised mind up till now.

"Before I forget, I must ask you if you and Helen would be interested in joining in with Chix out in the London Pride event. The club has been asked to have a special float and all the girls talked about it last weekend. Sally and I'll do the hard slog."

"What's Pride?" an instantly curious Rose intervened. I might have known, thought Helen, smiling slightly but bereft of words.

"Oh it's like a carnival for families of two mummies or women who live together like Trisha and Sally-Anne," Nikki said, choosing her words carefully.

"And can't children come as well?" pursued Rose in a determined fashion which made Trisha and Sally-Anne laugh affectionately. Why not, they both thought but it wasn't their place to say.

"We'll seriously think about it. after all, we played in your game so why can't you play in ours?" Helen finally said. Finally, the two of them waved off their friends as the afternoon started to draw in as a fitting close to two intensely satisfying and enjoyable days.


	13. Chapter 13

Over the years, both George Channing and Jo Mills had got used with dealing taking on a new case as imponderables went beyond the bare facts as they were. It made a difference if Neumann Mason-Alan or Mr Machin was the opposing barrister or each other. The way the case was argued made all the difference since the defining mark of their profession was their combative nature. The other question was which judge was going to try the case as the particular balence struck by the judge was another factor making a trial like a free-floating game of poker. For example, John Deed could be irritatingly interventionist in stealing the barrister's thunder but he had a wealth of caselaw knowledge at his fingertips and that knack of getting to the heart of the matter. Monty Everard was solidly grounded and wasn't to be trifled with when he intervened. Others tended to sit back and let the two barristers slug it out, sometimes letting barristers to take Jackson was a different kettle of fish altogether as he had none of the learning of the older generation of judges and was the leading light in a new breed of judges that the two women cordially detested.

George had first found this to her cost seven years ago when she'd defended Mel Bridges, Jo's first love and a secret drugs baron against charges which, at heart, she knew to be justified. What burned itself into her mind was his declaration that he decided what was a leading question and this taught her that he covered up his basic lack of abilities by seeking to be both controlling and arbitrary. This was his way of operating and both she and Jo always flinched whenever they heard that they'd drawn him as presiding judge. Nevertheless, they did their best to battle through trials and this trial was no different to others they had endured except that George's prosecution case had prevailed.

"Tell me George, have you ever had thoughts of becoming a judge? Let's face it, if Jackson could become a judge anyone could," Jo asked sardonically of her friend in their time-honoured place of intimate discussions, the locker room where they stowed their black gowns and wigs.

"Very true Jo," George smiled freely at her friend's witticism as they pointedly made no reference to the outcome of the trial."I have thought about it from time to time but other considerations have held me back and it's not false modesty."

"Whatever other reason could there be?" asked a puzzled Jo artlessly.

"There are various reasons," George teasingly answered, placing her wig on the top shelf and drawing out her response."There'd be a drop in money for a start. I made quite a pile in the days when I was bad. My charitable 'social conscience' cases doesn't mean that I want to virtuously wear sackcloth and eat boiled rice. I also like my freedom too much to ever want to be a mere employee."

Jo laughed at her friend's display of wickedness. In her hands, these were attractive vices and this was her way of saying that she'd never become Jo's spiritual twin was a little surprised nevertheless as hadn't thought that George's ambitions had moderated over the years.

"But what about you Jo? What's holding you back?" she pursued sharply.

"Oh," Jo answered vaguely as she paused to consider."I suppose there are limits to my ambition. Committed relationships need plenty of work. Besides, my love life matters too much to me."

George laughed affectionately at the way Jo's high-mindedness came down to earth with a bump. It reminded her that her friend had loosened up a lot since the old days so that she didn't display that priggishness that had prompted George to endlessly bait her. They weren't in competition over John any more as they used to be and they were good friends. Nevertheless, she was surprised at her friend's laisser faire attitude even if the gorgeous Jane Lancaster was keeping her warm at nights.

"So you're going to appeal against the judgment," George added in flat tones, a statement rather than a question.

"You bet I will. If you don't mind me saying, your case was shaky to say the least. The evidence linking my client to the murder was circumstantial. It was completely wobbly yet he made a one-sided direction to the jury and they swallowed it hook, line and sinker."

"You said it. Another person imprisoned where he should never have been. Ah well, more work for Daddy," George said with restrained contempt in her allusion to the Court of Appeal.

At that very minute, Joseph Channing was snorting with contempt over a similar case that had landed on his desk through the legal pipeline from an Old Bailey case that was tried many months previously. This time, it was George's handiwork in the trial documents and she had appealed the judgment in her precise manner.

"Good God," he exclaimed to Monty Everard who had come sidling round for some company. "Take a look at this frightful bilge. I'm intending to reserve it for myself and it's odds on that I'd grant leave to appeal."

"Your daughter's handiwork. Don't get me wrong, her judgment is sound."

"Take a look for yourself Monty. You may end up as winger if you want to take it along with John. There's no substitute for the old gang," Joseph said, pushing the papers in the other man's direction, With practiced ease, he ran his eye over the main features of the trial and compared it with George's submission.

"This will be a quick one unless the opposing barrister comes up with a miracle. It does mean that the nincompoops amongst the police are going to have to reopen the investigation all over again and the trail has long since gone cold. What concerns me is how we can let this incompetent carry on as he is. What's worse is that he's not the only one," Monty grated out in disgusted fashion.

"The trouble is that he's a judge and he can't be sacked. The privileges that we enjoy also saved John's bacon on more than one occasion when we were more than glad of it. They also serve to protect Jackson, more's the pity," reminded Joseph with a sharp look.

"I know we're getting old," sighed Monty at last after he'd digested what his trained legal mind reminded him was the truth. It seemed apt that the setting sun was shining in through the leaded light windows and casting growing shadows into his world, "but I feel the country's going to the dogs. Second raters in all walks of life are creeping in everywhere into the system and they have no idea of atandards."

"You're sounding like Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells," chuckled Joseph, the wrinkles on his face being belied by his mental sharpness.

"I remember having a really good drinking session with John many years ago. What made it perfect was Nikki Wade and her partner Helen Stewart who were perfect company and matched our drinking as well. Very intelligent women. Those two modern minded lesbians have as much idea of standards as we have. I wonder what they're doing with their lives," Monty said with fond remembrance.

"I know what you mean. George comes round regularly with her partner Alice and we have interesting discussions,"Joseph agreed enthusiastically."The point is that we still matter. We're not dead yet."

This made perfect sense to Monty and restored his flagging spirits even set against the present influx of judges along with the state of the world in general.

"What about coming over to the pub across the road for a quick drink Jo? I weant to pick your brains about the judge's bash that's coming up in a week or so's time," George asked companionably enough. She was dressed in her formal black suit and white shirt, skirt slit at the side and whose high heels edged her up closer to Jo's height. They both had a little time on their hands with concluding one trial and the inevitable press jamboree outside court and before others came to take its place.

"Why not? I feel in the mood," Jo answered sociably.

Seated either side of a round mahogany table with wrought iron legs, both women recalled the adrenaline rush of past trials where they'd fought through personal and political feelings for high stakes. Right now, the pub was quiet and laid back as sunlight streamed through the leaded light windows and the ghosts of past conversations lingered in the corners.

"So what's on your mind George? Personally speaking, I've just about got used to my professional and private selves coexisting. I'm a bit conscious of being stared at when Jane and I come into the room and we have an unwritten agreement not to come over too gay. It's not Jane's scene so she doesn't give a shit."

"That's just it," exclaimed George in relief at this apt description of this collision of identities." John and Monty have been really good to us and Daddy will always stick up for us. Some of the others prefer to think of us as we've always been. It's Jackson and his kind that set my teeth on last time they were there, they looked on us as freaks of nature."

"I'm not sure we can do much about looks," mused Jo as she sipped her fruit juice."If they put one step over the line, either of us could squash them. We're outside the conventions of courtroom etiquette and I'm sure they're afraid of strong women. We've got strength on our side."

"I suppose you're right," conceded George before adroitly switching to another topic of discussion that made her friend smile."So how do you feel about you and Jane babysitting Rose."

"I've done my homework by talking to Trisha about their colourful account of their visit to Nikki and Helen. I'm rather looking forward to it as she sounds an interesting child and maybe it will be like the old days with my two sons," Jo said optimistically.

"So how does Jane feel about it?" asked George impishly.

"She's curious as she delivered her at St Mary's. She admits to not being used to children so she's a little bit nervous but she's content to rely on me. You know what it's like about riding a bike. Once you get the knack, you never lose it," Jo answered breezily.

"Like sex eh? Or at least the right kind of sex," grinned George as she emptied her glass.

In a couple of weeks since Claire had had a heart to heart talk with John Wade, she'd seen all the pressures of the world on his back at last start to ease as she had negotiated with Gill Wade's solicitor a way out of the log jam which her obstinacy had created. John had got reasonable access terms as she'd grudgingly conceded that there was no objective reason why she could deny him custody. After all, he'd been conventional in his lifestyle almost to a fault and she'd been made to consider that his public record and demeanour held all the aces in possible court proceedings. Claire had sensed that Gill had got the message that she was sailing pretty close to the wind in her obstructive attitude in his visits and it could rebound on her. While it was an obvious matter of pride with her to never surrender any of her prejudices, a less visible side of her personality was to duck out of a situation if it threatened her respectability. Thus it was that the flames of conflict had died down to a sense of formal politeness if nothing else for the children's sake, John had divined that while Gill demonstrated having the whip hand in family discussions, he needed to seek to quietly influence situations on his visits which imperceptibly became part of the furniture. They were less torn between their parents and learned to relax a little.

There was a further amount of haggling over John being able to take his children on outings and it was finally dinned into Gill's head that her separated husband was not out to corrupt his children and was wary of any blame being attached to him. She didn't approve of Nikki and Helen any more than she ever had but, when her solicitor confronted her with hard questioning, she couldn't come up with any cogent matter to hold against John and was driven to a fallback position of her children keeping her up to speed on his unknown to Gill, her solicitor had heard of Nikki Wade's reputation as a self-educated researcher whose abilities and connections weren't to be sneezed at.

Thus, John Wade's life had settled down to a kind of routine so that the existence of those who cared for him felt real amongst which was the periodic lunchtime meeting with his sister in some convenient pub or cafe.

"John, I'd gladly sound out a possible girlfriend for you among my contacts but there's a fatal flaw. All the women I know are into other women I'm afraid," apologised Nikki very prettily when John made a casual aside about there being an absence in his life. John blushed profusely at revealing his hidden thoughts but Nikki smiled softly and laid a comfoerting hand on his. It was a shame, he reflected with the honesty that had come to be habitual over the last number of years that he wasn't God's gift to women. He ruefully reflected on the fact that his sister always had been. He might have been priggishly jealous at one time and gone into reality denial but now he openly admitted his sense of inferiority in this respect.

"So what do I do, Nicola?" he said at last. in Nikki's eyes, this was a huge admission for his proud nature as Nikki's soft brown eyes acknowledged this with great respect. The Wades were a proud lot and this wasn't always a force for the good. The problem was that Nikki was short of practical answers as all she knew was the Chix ambience but she promised to think about it.

While John was out at lunch, Claire Walker had received a phone call about the latest judges' bash and smiled with satisfaction. She had originally accepted this invitation to a social event as an honour to her firm. She also saw that solicitors in her practice could socialise with barristers and judges who it was was to view through the formality of antique robes and ancient formalities as august 'd originally considered the work the layers did as some were attracted to the comfort zone of steady conveyancing work while others enjoyed the bargaining skills of matrimonial case and only a few bolder souls liked the leap into the unknown of court work and acting as reliable lieutenants of barristers who did the cut and thrust work in court. John Wade had internalised from his previous firm how not to handle court work and had come into his own since he'd joined her firm and had understood the nuances of court cases. Barristers had overcome their initial reluctance to take him on but he'd persevered and had developed a good reputation in his quiet way. He was natural first choice along with a couple of others.

"Hi John. You're up for the judges bash a week on Saturday? Peter's coming as well from his firm,"Claire asked him lightly.

"Count me in. I rather enjoy them unless you think I'm hogging the position," John replied. Claire looked closely at the man. Others were reluctant to give up their weekend preoccupations although others would express a vague interest which might not mean too much. She knew that he didn't have many outside distractions but on the other hand, his company was welcome and that was the main thing.


	14. Chapter 14

The sun shone through the window of Kristine Thorne office in the tower block at the University of London and a soft wind blew at the wind chimes which played a strangely etherial melody. For such a simple device, it epitomised something about the remarkable woman in that it went a long way in extending its abstract art. She was aged 35, bisexual, and six years ago she completed her PhD. It was a formidably combined doctorate of Education and Criminology as an extention to the question of her Master's dissertation which was "Does giving prisoners an education decrease their chance of reoffending?" She had studied cases of those who have reoffended, to see what type of education they either did or didn't receive whilst they were in custody on previous occasions, in order to construct an idea as to what type of provision of education /rehabilitation might have prevented their subsequent reoffending. In addition to this, she had already gained the right to haul the M.A. and B.A academic titles after her name, having been teaching Education studies at the UL since starting her MA at the age of 23.

All this had gone a long way to validating her strong desire to succeed which was part of her wider goal of self-realisation. She liked a vast range of music She had once, sung with her school chamber choir at the Albert Hall for Cancer Research's 75th birthday concert, obtained grade 8 in flute and singing at the age of 18 and went skiing 3 times whilst at secondary school. All these accomplishments were known to her circle of friends who were also inclined to say as an afterthought that she was totally blind and had long since learned to get her way around with the aid of a guide dog called Jules. All this gave her grounds for satisfaction as all her energies had created the position she now found herself in.

She'd kept a tight circle of friends from her schooldays at a boarding school for blind and partially sighted pupils. Her research over the years would never permit her to draw parallels between this school that she'd lived in and prisons she'd visited, especially a dangerous two weeks working undercover for a research project but she couldn't deny the reality of a faint ghost resemblance. In both institutions, there was a level of camarederie that in her case meant that ties amongst her friends were surprisingly durable no matter how far afield their paths took them. Through Nikki's follow-up study on Larkhall Prison, she'd made enduring friendships with the liberal legal establishment especially with the different attrctions of George Channing and John Deed, the latter of whom was her occasional lover. All in all, there was much that she could be satisfied with in her life. Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind and she picked up her phone.

Today happened to be a middling to fair day for John when the phone rang. The sleek, black rectangular shape had become his lifeline with a long list of friends, professional contacts, casual acquaintances and sometime lovers. They might constitute his social circle whose existence kept him centred and satisfied and to whom he gave out his stimulating and interesting personality. However, he felt worryingly disconnected right now as he'd been sipping his drink one morning in the judges' digs. He looked around at the old-fashioned but comfortable surroundings and morosely wondered if that description applied to him as well. He was on his own but he'd never been bothered about being at odds with superficial trends and had ploughed his own furrow instead. social isolation like this was starting to get to him as time went on and he got older.

Suddenly, the ringing sound cut through his meditations after a few rings. When he reached for his mobile, he grinned to himself. It was precisely the intervention he'd needed.

"Hi, it's Kristine. I thought I'd phone you and ask how you're going on seeing that I've not been around for a while," the light attractive voice sounded in his ear

"All the better to hear from you Kristine as otherwise life tends to be a bit dull and predictable at times. What brings you back to this part of the world?" John replied in brisk, warm-hearted tones.

"I haven't been away John darling. I've been around here and there. You know what I'm like," came the teasing reply.

"Well, you're here now," John said after a distinct pause. Kristine picked up the intonation behind the words and knew she had to get her next words right.

"I've got a wide circle of friends and you're definitely one of them," she said with kind and tender emphasis.

This did the trick. John knew that his friend had affairs with women as well as men but he paid this no mind. He'd had his share of casual affairs over the years but when she was with him, she was wholly for him.

"I'm sure you have something in mind Kristine. You usually do," came his brioght and breezy reply which made Kristine laugh. Until she'd phoned, she'd half forgotten the man's rich and sonorous voice and she loved it all over again. This reminded her why her choice of bisexuality wasn't a temporary halfway house but a deliberate choice between the two ends of the spectrum.

"I've just discovered this gorgeous restaurant I want to try out. Needless to say, it's not just the food but the ambiance and who better than you to share it with?"

That cheered John right up. Now he thought about it, he had been depressed earlier on but things were different now. His earlier mood was simply a clinically observed fact of life.

On the face of it, Frances Myers had accomplished her career leap when she moved from Larkhall Prison to area management seven years ago as the sprawling interconnected edifice was the surest way of effortlessly moving up the career escalator. She's proved herself in heading up disciplinery investigations and project work so that she was now entrusted with prison office budget allocations, surely a position of power and control. She rapidly found out that this was not the case, especially as the mantra from above was to tighten belts and live within your means.

Her thoughts naturally gravitated to the identikit junior ministers she'd seen who had come and gone, all of them coming swanning around with aides in tow and mouthing the words his top civil servants have written for him. She smiled cynically as she recalled the Very Important Person who'd visited. She could picture him in his smart dark suit, white shirt and tie and accompanied by the usual fawning bag carrier. He'd acted as if he were the lord of creation and everyone was there to serve his needs. It was Neil bloody Haughton himself. She'd idly wondered after he'd exchanged a limp handshake with her what the man did outside the hours of work, did he go down the local pub and stand his round like a normal guy did. Then there were those those treasury type bastards swore blind with a straight face never existed. She had long tried to understand the way that those men's minds functioned and figured out that they must get their kicks from denying people to a major extent. Christ knows what they were like in bed, she wondered. In one idle surreal moment, she supposed that they must measure out their sperm very anxiously or alternatively that they must be a dead loss between the sheets. It partly explained why she learnt to keep her options open, especially as her one supposedly great love, a solicitor she'd hooked up with when she was in the police force, cheated on her years ago with her own sister of all people.

Enough of this sexual distraction, she swore to herself and her brow became furrowed as she dragged her mind back to contemplate the budget she had been allocated from above. She took a quick glance at the breakdown of resources and she threw down her pen as she figured out that this was several steps too far. It was only after she lit a calming cigarette and had idly cross checked the figures when she realised that they didn't add up. A broad grin spread over her face when she realised that this gave her the opportunity to push the discrepancies to her advantage. She'd also got to know pretty quickly never to accept the first figures as there were ways of squeezing out improvements from obscure contingency funds that needed to be hunted down. She started reaching out to like-minded friends to find out this information who knew that she'd return the favour. She'd come across those who jealously guarded their budgets and secrets in a tight-arsed fashion and knew in two seconds flat not to deal with them.

Finally, the major chunk of her day's work was done and she spent the rest of the day chatting to those who worked for her in the main office. She'd never forgotten her years in Larkhall Prison which had tauight her both to be self-sufficient and know who her friends were. She'd gone underground to worm out information on Natalie Buxton, that evil sex trade trafficker who looked and sounded like Olivia Newton-John. She'd been on her own with only Neil Grayling's benevolent long distance assistance and had survived it. If you can cope with that, she'd reasoned to herself, you can cope with anything.

At the end of the day, Frances took her leave, slid slowly down the antiseptic lift towards the wide staff entrance, complete with securiity guards and turnstiles and at last she was free. As she made her way to the car park, she smiled to herself at the thought that her career move had been the tipping point in termsw of her sexuality. Being more centrally based in London was it the case that feminine charms had finally seeped their way into her consciousness. This was ironic after being immune from them all the time she'd worked at Larkhall Prison. Whispered allegations about Selena Geeson's private life had been as if viewed through the wrong end of a telescope.

Just why her wayward eye was attracted to her various lovers had taken Frances a lot of thinking about in retrospect as they were very diverse on the surface. Originally, she'd been attracted to smooth, hard men who'd been a match for her own forceful personality. It was when she looked closer that her newfound choice of attractive blondes made her realise that it was the boldness in their gaze and softness in their souls that attracted her. As time went on, she realized that all of them had a mixture of strength and sympathy in their personalities. With her newfound ability to look below surface impressions, she realised that all her life's experiencesd had set her up for Kristine Thorne when she'd become mature enough to appreciate her. It also meant that her description of John Deed had aroused her curiosity. All these thoughts swam around in her consciousness as she drove past the automatic barrier and headed off back to her ultra modern third floor flat.

As soon as Frances got home, she knocked up a healthy salad with a sprinkling of specialities and sat back, a glass of wine in her hand. As she took it easy, her plate, knife and fork resting on her tinted glass table, she contemplated her prospects for the night. She could find a nearby pub where some attractive stud might catch her eye or alternatively she could head on over to Chix where perfumed fairer charms were in abundance. However, she'd spent a physically satisfying but exhausting night with Kristine last night so she finally decided that peace and quiet would fit the bill. Whatever she wanted would be out there whenever she wanted it.

At that moment, Kristine and John Deed were sitting at the opposite sides of a cosy dining table for two at the restaurant of her choice and it was everything that was promised. Twinkling lights and very soft, slightly jazzy music wove its magic spell while Jules settled himself in a strategic position to snaffle any accidentally dropped morsels. The subdued light shone on Kristine's slightly auburn hair and John's freshly trimmed slightly greying hair. As the evening continued in its leisurely, relaxed fashion, Kristine couldn't help noticing John's cheerfulness from the tone of his voice and his blithe manner as he told her of various anecdotes.

"I'm going to one of those periodic judge's bashes on a week on Saturday. It's one of those traditional affairs where anyone with any sensibilities wonders what are they doing there after the first half hour," John held forth breezily. Something didn't ring true to Kristine and she spoke the first words that came to her mind.

"So why do they continue? I mean, why are you really going?" she asked, placing her glass of Pimms back on the table.

"Sheer inertia. I've always gone even years ago when I was marginalised as the 'baker's boy.' "

The arch emphasis further jarred Kristine's sensibilities It demanded gentle probing.

"Oh, that goes a long way back. My father was a proud, self-respecting baker and we lived in a council house in a Birmingham suburb. I went to Oxford on a scholarship and I wasn't as polished as the other students- as I am now. I had to make compromises to fit in so I could win the space later on so I didn't compromise in the areas of life which most matter."

Beneath the light joking tones, Kristine felt the early pain which had been overlaid by success and acceptance on his terms. This was a remarkable achievement but the wound had only been partially healed.

"I know what it's like going to an alien institution. I picked up a slight Liverpool accent from my first school which stuck out like a sore thumb when I went to boarding school.. It was the price I paid. I've never dwelt on it. After all, I've ended up with what I've ever wanted most out of life," she said confidently enough.

This cheered John right up had to admit to himself that he'd not been quite all here on what should be a special happening for him. Here he was, with a strikingly intelligent woman on his side whose original outlook on life and her stately manner was more attractive than the conventional good looks of his casual pickups.

"Then I will go to the bash, be myself and damn the lot of them if they don't like me or my friends," he replied with convincing confidence.

This time, Kristine knew that John meant what he said and wasn't buoying up a shaky sense of self-belief with easy words and false bravadfo.

"And in the meantime, darling you're not really there but here," she said solicitously. She knew that his slightly faraway manner had faded as he was fully placed in the moment.

"You and I have known each other for a long time Kristine," he said tenderly and she knew that he was quite rightly referring to the intimate exchange of feelings and ideas that had threaded their way through the past few years. It was now that he realised with a self-deprecating laugh that the main dish was in danger of getting cold even while the soft lights gently glittered in harmony with them. Kristine of course read his thoughts straightaway.

Everything felt perfect in John's world as he lay next to Kristine in the comforting dusk in the sanctuary of her double bed. Somehow, the reassuring sense of familiarity was like nowhere else he'd ever been no matter how far his wanderings had taken him over the years to women's flats. He never wanted to selfishly lay claim to it which came with the territory of conventional couples. Her knew that Kristine would never have allowed it anyway. As always, when John had entered the flat, he had looked approvingly at her bookcase full of DVDs, audiobooks and braille books on the bottom shelf and the relatively small television in the corner. Everything felt right and proper, he half murmured to himself as he lay back on his side, Kristine's arms wrapped around him.

"So what's on your mind John? I'm curious," a very soft, musical voice sounded in his ear.

"Just how happy and content I feel right now. I can't think of any other woman who'd ask this question right now and get a straight answer from me," John said instantly, placing his hand against hers.

Kristine laughed gently. She'd talked in the past to Helen and Nikki and knew that she was reaping the rewards of their friendly efforts to break down his walls. She'd never tell John this but he was probably her most accomplished male lover she'd ever known, considering the stiff competition he was unknowingly up against. Now she came to think of it, his questioning intelligence and maturity were an irresistable combination together with the way he carried his worldly success lightly. There was something comfortable about the way they'd approached the bed and how he'd grown used to her insistance on undressing and making love with the light off. Similarly, Jules greeted him warmly and had accommodated himself to a familiar human being who knew his ways.

"You know I never give up once my curiosity is roused," she replied with gentle amusement. That might as well be written on my tombstone, John thought as he laughed softly.

"Kristine, I'd never claim to know everything about you but I know that much about you," John answered softly with a mood change that his lover followed easily enough. A surge of tenderness flowed through her system as she saw this man let down his most preciously preserved safeguard right in front of her.

"I know one thing about you, John Deed. You're the second most inquisitive person I've ever met after me of course yet I know you'll respect my wishes in not seeing me undressed. Come here sweetheart."

John was acutely aware of the mingled affection and desire that spread through John's system and he turned himself round to receive his lover's embrace, or such a woman that was at least with him tonight. it was strange, he thought in an abstract moment, that he had grown to accept Kristine's physical presence in the dark much in the same way that she lived her whole life. He ruefully considwered that she was much more advanced in her years of depthsw of perceptions in living in a world without sight or colour yet she'd negotiated life's demands with admirable ease. It was in such a mood thar he was with his twin soul that he pleasurably entered her and knew that their lovemaking would be both tender, satisfying yet not egotistical for them both.


	15. Chapter 15

Jane looked around at her partner, Jo Mills as they readied themselves to go out on a Satuirday night but this time was different. For the younger woman, this was a step into the unknown as this time, they weren't heading off to Chix but were honouring their promise to childmind Rose while Nikki and Helen were going in their place. Quite frankly, Jane felt nervous as nothing in her life's experiences had really prepared herself for this expeerience. She had spent years of being footloose and fancy free around London's nightspots, sandwiching this between her hours as a hardworking nurse at st. Mary's hospital. Over the last seven years, she'd slipped into a lifestyle of domesticity that she originally hadn't know she'd got to want. She'd found unexpected advantages, especially as Jo Mills had mellowed out as she'd drifted into discovering a sense of peace with herself that she'd not known before. It enabled her to reveal unexpected boldness in her personality that Jane had found very much to her taste. Everything was going along swimmingly but her partner's offer to help their friends goout was something she couldn't deny but it made her anxious at the same time.

This evening, Jo was ready dressed iun a trim pair of jeans, flat brown sensible shoes and a white top as a contrast with her typical slinky black going out dress while Jane had finally chosen her outfit that she supposed conformed to a vague idea of respectability.

"I can see you're looking forward to this evening," she observed in as light-hearted a manner she could conjure up.

"I am. It's like riding a bike. You never lose the knack," Jo replied breezily. A sense of returning to her toots had made her temporarily blind to other considerations.

"Like sex eh? You'd better put me down as a virgin in this area of life. Sure, I help babies come into the world but I'm really struggling with the way they get personalities of their own. I really don't know what I'll be like."

Beneath Jane's joking manner of speaking, her partner could see that Jane was really nervous, something she'd never seen before.

"Just relax Jane. I know what I'm doing and children aren't that hard to deal with," Jo answered, attempting to be reassuring. To her surprise, it opened the floodgates to a lot of feelings the younger woman had dammed up..

"I don't really know how how this sounds but here goes. I'm not the kind of woman that goes gooey eyed over children or has any mystical connection with them. I leave that to the mothers.. I deliver babies and I look after them asnd their mothers because that's my job. I really care enough that I want to do my bit to heal people but I can't understand how it is that mothers go through all that stuff."

"I think that you're dividing up women between the maternal kind and those who aren't," Jo said, drawing her partner into her arms knowing that they always talked

better that way."I bet you see the joy on women's faces when their babies are placed in their arms. You don't get to see them when the baby's crying and that same mother is is getting frantic with worry just how in hell she can calm that after babies and children takes a lot of learning. natural mothers don't exist, not in my experience sweetheart," Jo said slowly and gently.

"Thank God for that," Jane said impulsively, the first words that came to her mind."I'm still going to be relying on you a hell of a lot. I know I'm going to be nervous when I see her."

"I wasn't going to suggest anything different darling. We'll go over tonight and see what happens," Jo said reassuringly. Unknown to Jane, she'd done her research and had found from Trisha that Rose Stewart-Wade was a very remarkable child and something told her that Jane would take to her. .

A parallel conversation was running its course several miles away from where Jo and Jane were deliberating.

"Are you sure you don't mind us going out and our friends looking after you," Helen was asking Rose but in reality she was speaking to her inner voice of guilt.

Rose stood with her feet apart, looking square in the eye at Helen, unconsciously borrowing that mannerism off her mother.

"Mother, they're friends of yours. They'll be interesting like your friends always are. Besides, it will be a break for all of us...I mean a holiday for all of us," Rose added helpfully with an adroit last minute shift in emphasis.

"OK, we'll see how things are when they come, check out how we all get on," Nikki said guardedly, having been looking on with interest. She was just as undecided as Helen but something from Jo Mills' manner had prompted her to think that this was feasable. She'd remembered how their offspring had transformed Trisha and Sally-Anne when they'd called round.

"It means that bedtime is as normal. They're coming early well before we're due to set out," Helen finally pronounced as she finally got her head together..

 **"** Yes mother," Rose said meekly. Both women knew that their daughter's hyper-active mind and interest in people could lead her to stay awake way past her bedtime so that she became irritable and crabby the next day. Thwey looked round at each other as they were already washed and dressed in their evening wear. It seemed strange for Helen to be once again wearing her favourite low cut green dress and Nikki was wearing her waistcoat, white shirt and best trousers.

"Isn't there something we're supposed to be doing?" wondered Nikki hazily. "Oh yes, our makeup." The two women hazily thought back to the days before Rose had entered their world and remembered the time they'd spent in the search for endless perfection before the mirror. Nowadays, times were different. It was just when they had just finished off their makeup when moment that their front doorbell rang. Now the two of them really were committed to the prospects of going out and enjoying themselves. It felt so strange.

***** .

When Jo presented herself the front door with Jane, she decided that now was the moment of decision- the first few moments of encounter would decide everything. As the front door opened, the two women were momentarily surprised to see a little girl appear through the opening gap and look boldly at them with remarkable self-possession.

"Hello, you must be Rose. I'm Jo Mills and my friend here is Jane Lancaster,"Jo offered, making sure that she wasn't talking over the little girl's head in both senses of the word.

"My mothers are just getting ready so I'll take you through," Rose said with the utmost gravity that made Jo blink. They trailled in after their guide and finally mwet their friends as they came out of their bedroom, Helen having avoided smudging her lipstick by sheer luck as the doorbell rang.

"Wow, you guys look great," exclaimed Jane as she took in their sharply dressed and stunningly finished off selves.

"Well, we just threw it together. I can't believe how long we used to take getting ready," Nikki said self-deprecatingly."You've met Rose already but it'll help for her to get to know you both."

The expression on the little girls spelled out eager assent and they all sat down comfortably.

"Hi, I'm Jane. I've met you before only I don't suppose you'll remember. I'm a nurse at St Mary's Hospital and I helped deliver you when you were born," Jane suddenly found herself blurtring out all of a sudden.

All at once, Rose broke into a big smile and broke into laughter.

"You're really funny. I like that. You're really cool," she finally said. Jane faintly blushed with pleasure as it suddenly mattered that this interesting, unplaceable creature approved of her. It broke the ice.

"Believe it or not Rose, I'm not used to children but I'll learn," she confessed.

"Then you've made a great start," came the prompt reply which made Jane think that this little girl raises the bar pretty high.

"So what sort of things do you like? What interests you?" Jane asked feeling perfectly natural. With great relief, Rose decided that this nice, friendly grownup didn't talk down to her as a child. She started chattering away to Jane, using her hands expressively in a way that was all her own until she suddenly broke off, putting her hand in front of her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I should be talking to both of you. I just get carried away like always," the charming little girl apologised to the increasingly entranced Jo Mills. Gone out of the window were well-meaning questions she'd mentally listed of schoolwork, friends and hobbies. Just let it all come, she reckoned. Finally, Nikki checked her watch, reckoning it was safe and the right time to set off and exchanged glances with Helen.

"Right Rose, we're setting off. You're happy about our friends looking after you?" Helen ventured, more a statement than a question.

"Oh yes, " grinned Rose, nodding her head eagerly, attracted by the novelty of

the situation.

"So I hope we don't get to hear you've got too excitable and kept Jane and Jo up We'll be back after you're asleepand they'll grass on you if there's anything to grass with. You know how it goes," chimed in Nikki after Helen's stern admonition.

"I'll be good. Promise," Rose answered very appealingly with her wide open green eyes. Both women gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh, get going mums," Rose urged slightly cheekily as she saw them still frozen to the spot. Helen laughed lightly and kissed Rose lightly on her cheek, followed by Nikki. They became conscious of the taxi they'd ordered tooting briefly on his horn as they were running late. The last sight the two women caught before they were out the front door was their friends' reassuring smiles. Jo at least had been there before.

"I know you Helen. you're still feeling guilty about going out and supposedly abandoning our daughter even if there's a hundred reasons to think otherwise," broke in Nikki's quiet tones as they sat in the baqck seat of the taxi and letting it sweep them onwards out on the town.

"You can be annoying when you're right," retorted Helen, clearly pretending to be annoyed.

"Be prepared for our daughter debriefing us tomorrow. You know the way that she misses nothing. We've brought her up to tell the truth and there's no point kidding her that we haven't been miserable all evening," Nikki replied laconically as the street light cast a momentary illumination of the profile of her face. This was answer enough, thought the far-sighted Helen.

"So we're permitted to hold hands and kiss while we're in the taxi? We haven't done it for years," grinned a suddenly perky Helen impishly, looking proudly at their sleek appearance. A clasp of her left hand and a pair of soft lips laid on her own was sufficient answer and she woke up to the sight of her lover's inimitable soft brown eyes and full lips. She reached out for Nikki, feeling confident that they might improve a bit on the good old days as going out meant more to them this time around.

When the two women moved through the front door of Chix, passed through admission and along the corridor and into the dance area, they were overwhelmed by the explosion of sights and sounds. The soft pulsing music and garishly flashing coloured lights burst through the darkness, revealing split second visions of swaying was all too much yet it conjured up some old forgotten dream that had haunted the back alleys of their minds. These were transformed into waking life with almost unbearable intensity. Yet Nikki remembered hazily that she and Trisha had created this wonderland in another incarnation ago into which Helen had first ventured a lifetime ago or so the smaller woman slowly realised. It was their heritage, they mouthed to themselves as smiles of pleasure spread over their faces so they belonged here.

"Hey you guys. how lovely to see you both again." called out a familiar voice from out of the brief hole in the wall to wall music. It was Trisha, followed by a grinning Sally-Annewho materialised from out of the darkness and into the multishaded light. They advanced towards them in apparent slow motion, George and Alice and Beth and Karen trailing in their wake as golden visions of sheer perfection.

The two women affectionately kissed their friends and found themselves the centre of a crowd. Hey, how good it felt to be coming home, they thought, as theitr senses started to surrender to the familiar rhythms.

"What do you want to do first, join the dance or talk upstairs?" Sally Anne asked after the initial excited chattering had subsided a bit. She asked with an expansive welcoming geasture more in her voice than in her hand movements. Tears pricked in the eyes of the two women who felt that they werre at the heart of things. They were welcome, they were wanted.

"We'd like to dance for a bit to prove we're not too rusty and then we'll catch up with conversations we've missed if that's all right with everyone," Nikki answered, automatically including everyone with their wishes and pitching up her voice to club level sounds.

With a grin, Karen gently boogied her way onto the dance floor, her right hand trailing

back and clasping Beth's. A magnetic compulsion drew the others onto the dance floor and, all at once, Helen was fascinated by her lover's cool dance moves and was loving the taller woman all over again. Through Nikki's eyes, Helen presented a curvacious vision of loveliness whose sensuous moved were only a move away from the passionate woman of their bedtime.

Many hours later, they were making a move back onto the dance floor from the VIP room where they'd run a helter skelter ride down flashing waterfalls of conversations with old friends, laughing joking and fondly reminiscing. They'd come a long way from priovate discussions about child development and school matters. It felt good to banish these concerns to the extremities of their subconscious thoughts for one night, to have unashamed fun on their own and have time for their own needs and desires. As Karen and Jo followed them down the stairs, they exchanged benevolent glances relating to their friends, having been there before.

"Can I have the pleasuire of the next dance with you darling?" Nikki asked of her lover with a kiss on her hand with a gentle smile before clasping her well formed hand again.

"Of course sweetheart. You and me forever," murmured Helen, raising her outstretched arms and ready to be embraced for a slow dance. A shiver of excitement ran through both women's systems as they moved up close, both of them now slightly drunk. Ever since they'd first stepped into this magic realm, they'd become much more phytsically affectionate with each other than they'd been accustomed. They'd not crossed an invisible line up to which Rose would be comfortable with the normality of two mothers. It was the price they'd had to pay. Right now, they'd burst through these constraints just for the night in a way that made their senses come alive. Helen tucked her head into the certain shelter of the taller woman's shoulder and the cotton candy music. Everything was perfect as they swayed to the music, their arms wrapped around each other. When they finally kissed each other, long and deep, they felt silent applause reach out to them.

Back at their home, Jane was pleasantly surprised how meek and obedient Rose was when they put her to bed at the appointed hour after hearing their friends' 'd had a pleasant evening as Rose chatted in a way that gained their genuine interest.

"That was easier than I expected," commented Jane as they tiptoed away.

"That's Rose's way of putting in a bid for us to be regular childminders," laughed Jo knowingly.

They looked around the living room which was restful and serene thanks to the subdued lighting and warm colouring. They knew their friends were likely to be out for a good long while letting their hair down after such a long absence from Chix. Jane looked to her partner what to do next depending on how solid a sleeper the little girl was.

"They said we could feel freeto put on the TV or play a CD as long as it wasn't Led Zeppelin or something like that," suggested Jane.

The other woman's gaze was irresistably drawn to the extensive and varied CD collection and finally zeroed in on a CD of soft, beguiling music that she knew Jane liked. In the meantime, Jane poured out two glasses of wine following their friends' generous invitation.

"We're finally settled down darling," Jo murmured contentedly, putting her feet up. Her drink was in one hand and her other arm was around her partner's shoulder. They were tired, the light were soft and low and the music was hypnotic. Soon, their eyelids drooped down on their cheeks and they slid into a pleasant, never never land, all of their own.

The mysterious sounds light footsteps paced into the hall in the dreamstates of the two sleeping women. They weren't sure if they were real or not.

Nikki and Helen had opened their front door with exaggerated care as they wobbled slightly from the taxi up the path to the front door, arms wrapped round each other. Once inside, they slipped off their shoes in the darkness and teetered their way down the hall, bottling up attacks of the giggles. Finally, they squinted at the sight of their two friends in the dlow of the sidelights, fast asleep and wondered what to do next. as suppressed laughter leaked through their guard, their two friends waking dreams morphed into actuality as flickering eyelids let in spasms of light and dark. Finally, they focussed on two women, leaning against the vertical perspecxtive at an angle and saw that party spirits slopped over the edges of Helen and Nikki's consciousness even while they tried to act normally.

"Hey you guys, you've obviously had a night out on the town," yawned Jane as she hazily figured out their friends' appearannce out of nowhere."Do we feel wrecked?"

Helen flopped down on the armchair on Nikki's lap. Her mind wanted to organise stuff but the spirit was flagging. Finally, she got her mind to speak sense.

"Do you really want to go home this time of night? You can stop here if you want spare cushions to make up a bed, I think."

Jo finally pulled herself together,extinguished the red light of the CD player and put the CD back in its case. The temptation was irresistable. Besides, Rose was sure to love their company the next morning. Everything felt right.


	16. Chapter 16

One fixed point in John's life which gave him a measure of reassurance was his return to the judge's digs after a day in court. For a start, he'd got to like the faded nineteen thirties aesthetics, especially the dining room which was airy and spacious and the long formal dining table invited fellow judges to socialise in an unpressured fashion. The only fly in the ointment was Vera Everard's periodic visits but John had learnt to gently parry the woman's elephantine social skills and avoid being dragged into her schemes. He knew that she saw him as a bad influence on her husband but he was damned if it would deflect him from his purposes. Vera aside, John enjoyed the leisured conversations with whoever drifted into the room and the chance to read a newspaper in piece and quiet withouty being thought unsociable.

It amused him that his paths never crossed with Tim Jackson at the digs, the new leader of reactionary forces amongst the judges and young fogey incarnate, even though they resided at the same digs along with his followers. The grapevine told him that they gathered together at some pretentious cocktail bar after work along with Lawrence James and the new circuit administrator, Tim Smithson so they happened to dine after he and his friends had moved on elsewhere. It suited his purposes not to have to contend with their glowering presence even though it struck him as tytpically cowardly of them.

Over the last seven years, John found himself sharing company with Sir Ian Rochester from time to time. Ever since John had become a judge, the man had been a constant adversery as he'd done the government's dirty work in attacking him or Jo Mills and John had laughed in the man's face. What had changed their relationship was **a** memorable moment when he'd found the man sitting on a park bench, his head in his hands and going through a nervous breakdown. John had taken pity on the man and Sir Ian had responded so the connection was made. When Sir Ian took medical retirement from the civil service and went to work for a charity, this dissipated entirely any possible remaining causes for conflict. he announced this to John when he pasid the first of many friendly visits to his digs. This established a pattern where months might pass until suddenly, he appeared from out of the blue and was granted hospitality for old times sake.

So it was that he appeared one evening, wearing his habitual open-necked shirt and dark trousers being emblematic of a lifetime functionary who had learnt to cut loose a bit and be more comfortable with himself. John noticed that, as always, he was more relaxed in his manner than he used to be with less stress lines on his face. His whole approach was subtly different as he arrived without a trace of business agenda.

"Take a seat Ian," John offered genially."It's been a while since we've seen you. Your timing is good as Monty has just arrived."

The man approaching them grinned as Monty Everard, a fellow judge, arrived on his own with a copy of the Times under his arm.

"You're being very brave to buy a newspaper Monty. Even the Times has joined the national trend of portraying politics as soap opera. It is a state of affairs I deplore as it elevates the trivial and what is important is swept under the carpet."

"I couldn't agree with you more but old habits die hard," grinned Monty apologetically.

"It gives me peculiar feelings," ventured Sir Ian as John poured a fresh cup of tea for him."I read about powerful people whio I was closeted with for far too long and saw far too much of."

For the first time in years, John saw a faint twitch distort Sir Ian's expression and instantly felt sorry for the man. However much grief that he'd suffered over the years, he'd never internalised their distorted view of the world. Monty realised what his friend was thinking and also felt a little guilty.

"Perhaps I'll read it later on. Do we really want to conjure up more doom and gloom in the world than there naturally is?" he replied pacifically as he folded up the newspaper.

"No go ahead. I went through therapy a number of years ago and I should be able to read about my former cronies without it getting to me. It was first instinct speaking and isn't the right move. I like the idea of the three of us gaining some amusement at the so called leaders of our nation," interposed Sir Ian gently. His smile wasn't a forced reaction, John noted, but the man exercising the sort of spirit and strength of character that they respected him for. They knew about his mental illness and how he'd struggled back from the brink.

"If you're sure Ian," Monty asked and, after a pause, he started to unfold the nespaper and laid it out on the table while Sir Ian drank a refreshing cup of tea, a moment amongst friends that felt so British to him.

"You have to look at Page 4 or Page 5 for anything really important. Page one is about cheap sensationalism," John assured the other two is self-assured tones.

"You're wrong John," grinned Monty wickedly, pointing at the headlines on page one.

"James Purnell, Social Security Minister has just resigned over the principle of party leadership," added Sir Ian. A mischievous smile split his face in two, making him seem younger than his years. In the past, this mannerism was beyond him as he was too stiff and inflexible to let himself go.

"You know him? I can't keep up with them. I thought all politicians look the same," John observed with lordly disdain and a twinkle in his eye.

"Like civil servants? Well, perhaps you're right. I have the advantage over you as Purnell was a great friend of Neil Haughton. I've met them at various team building exercises. You can imagine the idea of of throwing together a jackall, a hyena and a leopard and see what they have in common," Sir Ian explained with vivid distaste, powerful imagery that showed his two friends how much he'd changed.

"From your specialised experience which you're deploying to good uses, perhaps you care to talk us through this news item," John asked his friend with kind-hearted respect.

Sir Ian realised that he was being called upon to speak with the peculiar authority of gamekeeper turned poacher and this kindness buoyed up his spirits to collect his thoughts together.

"This administration is really falling apart. It isn't just a petty spat but goes much deeper. You must know the warring spirits and competitive ego that makes a modern politician."

"And cowardice. Don't forget that Ian," interposed John gently.

"Precisely so. It's taken me a long tiome to realise that arrogant men directing me to administer the execution of government directives are also too frightened to put their heads over the parapet and disagree with these same policies. I've learnt that bullies are really angry cowards," Sir Ian said stiffly, colouring slightly. His civil service analysis was bumping up against painful feelings and came out peculiarly mixed. The other two men saw this at once and John stepped into the breach.

"You had the courage to admit you needed help and walked away from the madness. You might not think of it that way Ian." The other man flushed with pleasure at this compliment.

"Thank you John. It was really nothing," he answered modestly and pausing before leading off into his thesis." You know that the new prime minister is a worse bully than his predecessor without his knack of getting a band of thieves to stick together. They know it as well and they're in a slow motion car crash waiting to happen. You might think that none of them have the force of personality to take charge of the situation but it goes deeper than that. Purnell thought the time was ripe to lead a challenge to the leadership but he's been double crossed by those who want to ensure themselves coming and going. At all times, they'll follow the rising star and they have no loyalty or principles."

"That sounds convincing. You know, some primeval instinct within me insists despite all the evidence before me that there's some concept of public service around," Monty ruefully responded.

"You know, I feel strangely removed from the battlefield," Sir Ian said, shaking his head dazedly."I do my best with my charity work these days. You meet a more decent type of person. I try and work for the best. It feels strange talking about matters of state after all these years. I know both of you'll keep on fighting..."

There was an emotional pause as the three of them were conscious of skirting around powerful emotions. They became conscious that dispassionate analysis had its limitations but they were men and weren't about to unload emotional language on each other's shoulders. Sometimes, it didn't need to be said though john was aware that this was the sort of thing that his old frriends Nikki and Helen did so well. He hadn't seen them in years.

"Have another cup of tea Ian," John finally found himself saying. It was his way of creating an emotional bond.

"It's interesting how times change. Ian is a decent fellow. A long time ago I'd have never said that. he's come a long way," observed Monty sympathetically after Sir Ian had aimiably made his way out of the door after a tasty meal and many cups of tea. John had seen that his friend was brimming over with warm emotions and couldn't help sensing that he was a little lonely and lost. It might be argued that it had a certain resonance for his own situation.

"Virtue should have its own rewards. He's certainly changed out of all recognition and for the better," he replied.

"I'm stuck with a marriage that I've long since thought of bailing out of," Monty continued with a grimace on his face as his train of thought came to him from out of the blue."However, when I think of the practicalities in cold blood, I can't face all the upheaval. Her solitary virtue is that she doesn't impose herself too much on me. It's only when she talks to me that I feel lonely."

Monty's sonorous final words reverberated off John's insides for a long split second and his gaze became temporarily vacant.

"I forget John. You're footloose and fancy free and don't have to suffer unendurable TV programmes in a sense of togetherness. You've cast odff your shackles," he added, chuckling in a gesture of male bonding.

"It sometimes isn't as easy as all that Monty. I have an open relationship with a remarkably talented woman, a university lecturer. She's quite as committed as I am into not being tied down by committments. Physically, she isn't my normal type," John explained in a fashion that mildly puzzled Monty but struck him as typical John.

"You mean long blonde hair and nice legs? Just consider how archetypal George Channing and Jo Mills are," laughed Monty knowingly.

"Kristine's auburn haired and statuesque and, in case I forgot to mention, she'd blind," answered John in unnassuming tones.

This took Monty completely aback as it was beyond his imagination to conceive of.

"She's about the the most extraordinarily intelligent woman I've met and proudly independent. It isn't surprising considering what she's achieved. She keeps me on my toes and she's very inventive in every way," John explained with patent sincerity.

A kaleidoscope of emotions swept through Monty as incomprehension and acceptance fought for mastery before he finally wove his way through the conundrum. It struck him in passing that John had never before talked about a woman in quite these sort of terms.

"I don't pretend to understand but she obviously sounds special and you think very highly of her. It also keeps you out of trouble with the LCD," Monty concluded with a slight laugh as he remembered the series of scrapes his friend's love life landed him in.

John omitted to mention that Kristine liked women as much as men. He knew that this was a concept too far for his friend. It prompted him to hazily recall when he could talk freely about the feelings inside him that he couldn't do with male friends. As it happens, Monty was thinking along parallel lines.

"Since we're walking down memory lane, I remember how we had the pleasure of the company of Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart. I've never forgotten how they came round to the digs and we split a bottle of whisky and had a really good conversation with charming company. We don't see them around any more," Monty said with a regretful air of good times past that could not be recalled.

"That brings back memories," John said in an understated fashion. Monty directed a sharp look at his friend, having got to know his ways over the years but he let John continue.

"I was very fond of them both and owe them a lot as true and loyal friends."

"was? Don't you see them anymore? You were always closest to them," pursued Monty. Around them, the fading light had the knack of smoothing out the visibility of facial expressions.

"Things happen. Life gets so busy and gets in the way of plans. People have their own paths in life no matter how much you want things otherwise."

"Just as you say," Monty answered in kindly tones. He couldn't see the expression on John's face it but his ears told him he'd hit a sensitive spot on his friend. He daren'd not pursue the matter further.

"I suppose we should figure out how the judge's bash is going to go," smiled John. Both men inwardly heaved a sigh of relief as talking about practical matters were easier to cope with. Thetre was a ready language to hand. .


	17. Chapter 17

After the previous night's discussion with Monty, John's mind was made up. A purposeful feeling flowed through him while he let Coope do the finishing adjustments to his red robes that he'd let far too much time slip by and he had to make contact with Helen and Nikki again. They'd become part of the very close circle of friends who nurtured each other who meant a whole lot more than his casual affairs. He knew that phoning or e mailing would not do and he chose to visit Nikki at her place of work at the first opportunity.

Meanwhile, his exterior self was contentedly running the trial with a little more sharpness of purpose than normal. Two thirds of the way through the afternoon session, George announced a glitch in the trial, that her key witness wasn't available for the trial but would be available the following day.

"In which case, it hardly seems appropriate to continue. I would have preferred her in any case to start fresh in the morning and run through to the end. Court is adjourned."

"John's been unusually dominant and masterful," drawled George to Jo on the way out of court, relieved that he'd reacted graciously to the spanner in the works.

"There goes a man on a mission," observed Jo as she saw him make haste for his chambers.

In the lunchtime interval, John had waited with feverish impatience for electronic contact to be made down the phoneline. He laughed slightly at himself as he'd been far more relaxed when arranging a date considering all the one night stands he'd initiated in his life and this woman was hopefully at best a friend.

"Hey, you can't possibly be John Deed after all these years Helen and I have known you. It's lovely to hear you," that well modulated voice sounded in his ear with her wraparound warmth.

"I'd like to do more than that. I'd like to meet you and Helen again. I phoned you as I hadn't got Helen's details," John blurted out sounding excruciatingly clumsy.

"There's no time like the present. I remember how your day is in the lap of the gods but perhaps you could drive over to my place of work about three thirty? You're well remembered by the Howard League " suggested Nikki with her infinite tact in smoothing things over. This delighted John so after the trial he phgoned Nikki back and was soon on his way. Lawrence James and new circuit administrator, Tim Smithson were passing by outside and sourly gazed at a cheerful John in his open top convertible and speculated on the nature of his assignation.

Once a slightly windswept John had paced into the reception and announced his purpose, he didn't have too long to wait when a radiant Nikki dressed in her favourite charcoal grey trouser suit came lightly down the flight of stairs, shook his hand warmly and drew him into an unexpected embrace. He'd not expected so warm a reaction.

"Hey, you're lucky I didn't personally roll out a red carpet but we haven't any in stock. Come up and join me for a cup of tea and my boss Paul Armstrong will likely pop his head round. He gets to hear things," Nikki said in her most humorous, affectionate fashion. Unexpectedly, a tear or two pricked John's eye.

John let himself be led to the homely brewing up point, complete with two hard chairs and a round table. He watched his friend move gracefully around and serve up two mugs full of tea and he took a sip. He knew that now was the moment of decision and he knew he had to account for his unexplained silence over the years.

"It's so good to see you again but I feel I ought to explain my disappearing act when Rose was born. It might seem incredibly foolish but I was afraid that if I saw yours and Helen's child, I would be overcome with irrational paternal feelings when I know full well as a rational fact that you and Helen are her mothers. I kept away for fear of that happening. I didn't want the slightest possibility of being where I wasn't wanted..."

A deathly silence elapsed that seemed to last an eternity. John screwed up his eyes as he sounded to his ears to have uttered the most incredibly clumsy and ill-judged stream of nonsence.

"Since when did you stop being friends with Helen and I? Some friendships never die and can be picked up so easily. Besides, you and I are surprisingly similar. You and I have always known that, John," Nikki said very tenderly, placing her hand lightly on John's fist. He opened his eyes to see his friend's face full of understanding and he felt he was coming home.

"We are?" was all he could say. Nikki knew that, as always, John was for real.

"Helen and I worked it out and knew that the time would be right."

A great weight slid off John's shoulders. He felt so relieved and a broad grin spread across his face. This was time for the next part of Nikki's proposition as her mind had turned things over with Helen's help ever since lunchtime.

"We've thought a lot about Rose and what she needs out of life. As you might imagine, Rose has a lot to do with our female friends who come round. She does see my father and my brother but Helen and I know that a male friend of ours would do her a power of good and who better than you? I know you've got your own life so there's no pressure. I'm sure you'll find everything fine when you meet Rose as you've been through something like this yourself from being adopted. "

"I'd be delighted," John said enthusiastically as a shaft of sunlight emerged through the clouds and shone in through the window."You've made things sound possible."

"You'll enjoy it. Between you and me, we wonder if Rose is some kind of visitation. She's a real live wire and will keep you on your toes. She's incredibly individual and misses nothing."

A deep feeling of joy spread through John's system as they nattered away just like the old days and fixed up for when John was going to visit them. He had warm feelings for his friends' flat where they'd generously let him stop the night. It reinforced everything Nikki had said.

It had happened. John Deed lifted his glass of whisky upwards at a jaunty angle and drank it down in the sanctuary of the judges digs along with his friend, fellow judge Monty Everard. Thanks to a sequence of recent , he'd regained his sense of purpose in the world that had slipped through his fingers over the last number of years. He chuckled to himself that a part of it was that conflict and confrontation that had restored one of his vital driving forces, the other one being his was fortunate that Monty Everard had returned with him the other night to celebrate as his friend's barely connected wife Vera Everard was fortunately elsewhere so they could go off and clink glasses together to celebrate their victory. Moreover, the prospect of catching up with Nikki and Helen's family gave him an added sense of belonging. As he settled back in a comfortably old-fashioned armchair, he reflected on the turbulent goings on at the judge's bash tonight whose intent to draw everyone together had not functioned as it had been intended.

John was as sociable as the next person but he'd grown averse to the false bonhomie that sought to grease the wheels of business to the executive's advantage. Memories floated back into his mind when he was a young barrister of self-satisfied elderly judges standing cheek by jowl with LCD civil servants and the odd government minister. They talked loftily over glasses of malt whisky of their shared perspectives of the lower plains from their shared perspectives of the eagle's eyrie. It wasn't that the majority of them had been to Oxford University as he'd been there himself but that corruptionm did not come in the form of a cold-eyed summons to sign your soul away but an infinity of affable conversations edging the supplicant for favours on mutually undwerstood terms. When John became a high court judge, he intruded his lively presence into the proceedings once he'd persuaded others of the growing threat of Great Britain PLC. After that, an extra spice of subversion had been introduced when George Channing, his ex-wife, had started bringing her attractive dark-haired consort Alice Swinburne and Jo Mills defiantly partnered the very luscious Jane Lancaster. Their presence always caused a rustle of disquiet to swirl round the room as a bold challenge to normality. Why, these women could easily be taken for normal if they hadn't partnered each other, they muttered later behind closed doors. Of course Jo Mills might be expected to jump across some earnest bandwaggon but George was a renegade who stared disapproval down her acquiline nose.

However, the latest additive to this combustible mix was the advent of 'young fogeys' like Jackson and his friends who'd recently come out of judges school. John freely admitted that his depressed mood had delayed him recognising their danger till recently.

"I come up against pipsqueak judges like Tim Jackson, son of the original hanging judge who sent Nikki down for life and he's so new I can still see the indentation of his school cap yet he's got promotion so fast it makes you blink," John had said years ago. The trouble was that he hadn't seen how times had changed though, strangely enough, neither had the establishment in the form of Sir Alan Peasemarsh and Lawrence James.

"This is where everyone treats us as Martians," observed George acidly as she and Alice prepared themselves to cross the threshold into the realm of the legal establishment."Still John Deed is there and he's never forgotten what Nikki and Helen dinned into his proud intellect." Just because of the possible friction, she entered the room, defiantly hand in hand with Alice. Making a dramatic entrance had always come easily to her and the spicing of defiance helped.

Jane Lancaster made her wide-eyed entrance with Jo as she took the same step only she was taking on the polished mahogany world of the judiciary. Though she continued to be an ordinary working nurse, years of living with Jo had broadened her horizons. Her naturally combative nature didn't stop her from being prepared to discreetly rock the boat if push came to shove if her partner didn't suffer the consequences. Jo Mills found herself in the delightful position of her partner who judged the situation right in being there for her. Prior to that, she'd be stuck in the hated position in being the voice of reason in tactfully covering up some major gaffe. These days were behind her now as she floated serenerly into the large chamber on her partner's arm to take two glasses of chilled white wine.

"Still together?" Vera Everard enquired of the two women only as the crods trapped them into having to advance in her direction. The younger woman raised a hand in front of her mouth to conceal her grin at this ogre wearing preposterously loud coloured clothes topped off by died ginger hair.

"Doesn't it looks like we are?" Jo smoothly and icily replied.

"I would have thought that biology doesn't help your kind," Vera said in her most dismissive tones.

A scornful laugh broke out from behind Vera's back. George Channing's edgy mood was provoked by this idiot so she couldn't help butting in.

"Haven't you given up yet Vera? Youi haven't a clue what lesbians do between the sheets. You couldn't possibly imagine it so perhaps we could enlighten you."

Vera recoiled in horror at the wicked grin on George's face and the meaningful smiles on the faces of the other three women. It grated on her that they'd not lost her looks which were simply wasted in her limited perspective. Far actross the room, John Deed had been engaged in animated discussion with John Wade and he smiled at this amusing incident after which the participants drifted apart.

"I'm glad you're doing well in Claire Walker's practice," John Deed was saying.

"She's improved it out of all recognition or so I'm told by those who've been there longer than me. I felt I could breathe properly the first day I entered the front door. Claire is very kind and helpful and runs things without appearing to do so."

"You mean you like the clash of the gladiators presided over by the royal throne?" joked John with self-deprecating humour.

"Now I'm on the right side and have put behind all those trials years ago when, in effect, I did the government's bidding without thinking. My problem is that perhaps I'm getting old but some judges are starting to look younger and last trial I was at wasn't a good experience even though I was working with Jo Mills," John Wade said slowly and thoughtfully. They were seated at a corner table, a little removed from the hubbub.

"You mean Jackson and his crowd of admirers?" John said, cynically pointing to the young man dressed up to the nines and basking in the admiration of his cronies to whom Lawrence James and his sidekick, the circuit administrator, Tim Smithson. They'd made a particular point of staying in their corner out of harm's way. "I feel I'm getting old when I catch myself thinking that the country's going to the dogs but of course, it's those who regard themselves as the upper echelons in society. They have a repellent facility for dressing up political expediency with tattered extracts from lawbooks selected to suit their purposes. They have no proper legal grounding. Even the old time reactionaries never transgressed certain limits. What's worse is that they are attracting new blood to them and I've been slow in waking up to the fact that they pose a threat."

"You can't be serious?" questioned John Wade. To him, they looked like overgrown public schoolboys whose charm was skin deep as was their understanding of life which he and his friends had learnt the hard way. They'd been cosseted by life's experiences.

"The establishment would like to see the back of us only we're too useful to them. They think that, given time, they'd supercede us as we're getting on in years even though we don't feel it. However, I suspect they're going to come up against unexpected female opposition who are quite beyond their comprehension," John replied with amusement having seen George Channing, Jo Mills and their partners having set themselves on slow but inevitable collision course with the forces of social reaction.

John Wade gravitated back to the security comfort zone of Claire and Peter Walker. The three of them were junior participants to the clash of wills amongst the judges.

"So how do you feel at events like these?" John asked of his friends. To him, they were a perfect couple and a poignant reminder of how dysfunctional Gill's and his relationship had been.

"In court, everything is circumscribed and it takes exceptional force of character to break through like John Deed does. I have admired him from afar for years."

"this event is supposed to grease the wheels of justice with bonhomie and a liberal dose of high quality wine and LCD officers in attendance. I suppose that is how things used to be," observed Peter quietly as the first words that crossed his mind jumped out of his mouth. They hung on the air despite the background chatter all around them.

"It's certainly not working now," Claire pursued as she gestured to the various groups with backs turned to each other."You see resignations and failed political coups as headline news. God knows where this is heading."

"We stick to our guns, war without end," John found himself saying as the glasses clinked and soft light reflected off rich red mahogany and framed portraits of past judges. It was possible to imagine their ghosts looking down with superior, self-satisfied voices and olympian judgment and sensing that their world was changing irrevocably.


	18. Chapter 18

Rose remembered how an new teacher took them for an arts lesson in family trees. He was rather shouty and bossed them around which was a giveaway in Rose's eyes that in reality he was obviously nervous. The class all scrawled away with little stick like people with family titles and names written at the sideand wiggly lines interconnecting the family tree. Rose set to work along with the others with no hesitation. She drew one mummy marked Helen in her dress and pudding bowl haircut and another mummy called Nikki who was harder to draw as a distinct mummy figure though she did her best. She scrawled lines to three grandparents, being in danger of going off the page so she had to foreshorten them a bit. As she finished her drawing , the teacher passed by her desk and asked in a tone of voice which put Rose on her guard. He looked at the Nikki figure and frown lines appeared on his face.

"You've spelt him wrong, Rose. Nikki isn't spelt that way. It should be Nicky, short for Nicholas," he said sternly.

"This is right. Nikki is my other mummy," protested Rose mildly.

"She's always saying that. She's making it up to sound special, different from the rest of us. Two surnames as well," laughed one of Rose's enemies. The little girl's boldness infuriated her three enemies who were on the back line of desks, one of whom did the dirty work

"Quiet. I'll have no arguments in class," the teacher yelled, shutting everyone up. Rose glared at the teacher's back and also at her enemy. She'd been insulted and the teacher hadn't treated her fairly and that got her angry. She didn't think to doubt the normality of her upbringing so this injustice grated on knew Roisin and Cassie, Trisha and Sally Anne and her Uncle John. Any of them would have handled the situation differently and needless to say either of her two mummies. She was sure the teacher had disapproved of her work but she chose the opportunity when he was distracted at the end of the lesson to slip her piece into the pile of work at the end of the lesson.

Rose's spirits brightened as she waited for her next lesson to start. She'd presented her English exercise book with her latest essay on how she'd inveigled her new friends Trisha and Sally Anne (not her mummies' friends) to join her in a game of hopscotch along with her neighbours. It was written in her own droll, inimitable style and she sneaked in a few new words she'd learnt that felt right. meanwhile Mrs Stevens, the comfortably middle aged fair haired teacherwas pacing towards the form room, full of good intentions to impart her lesson plan. At the back of her mind, her soul was grinning at her charge's amusing, literate story that was built up on an everyday occurrance. With a great effort of will, she handed out the pile of exercise books and avoided crossing eyes with the little green-eyed girl to the side of the class. She had a soft spot for the girl's originality but knew she had to give equal attention to all her class. Rose grinned briefly as she saw the mark, a tick and a little 'smily' face that Miss Stevens had drawn in a moment of weakness. She settled down for an enjoyable lesson but took care not to stick her hand up too often to name the right answer as it was no coincidence that her enemies struggled in this lesson.

Rose found lunchbreaks could be problematic depending on who you ended sitting with but cheered up when she lined up with her best friend Emma in the dinner queue. They shuffled forwards in the bright, airy dining room in the modern block and, after carrying their meals on blue4 trays, found themselves a handy corner to gossip amongst themselves. The two girls were in different classes unfortunately so this was the best time to get together.

"You looked down in the dumps when you came in," volunteered Emma. Rose sighed as she hadn't thought that her disgruntlement was that obvious but she ought to have realised that her friend could read her moods. She knew she was more wary and guarded at school where she had to but, left to herself, her feelings were easily visible in her body language.

"I had a lesson on family trees. You can guess what happened. If Mrs Stevens had been teaching, she'd wouldn't have made such a song and dance about my family. Of course, I got jumped on. OK I have two mummies. Some families have one mummy, others have a dad and a mummy. We're all different and that's the way I live so get over it," Rose said, keeping her voice down low when she wanted to shout it out loud.

"That's really awful. I don't see why they don't understand. They must be really sad and unhappy or their patrents are really wierd," Emma said in her forthright fashion. It did the trick and cheered Rose up. It prompted her to pop a question she'd been dying to ask. She knew that Emma liked her but she wasn't sure if it because of her own family background or despite it. She was of an age that other girls talked of sleepovers for a whole variety of reasons, some of which didn't impress Rose. However, she thought that having something like a sister would feel good. The question was about parents. She shut her eyes momentarily which was her way of psyching herself up and popped the question.

"Emma, you know we're good friends. Trouble is that we go home and don't see each other. Why don't we have a sleepover," Rose said, her words all in a rush. Immediately, she felt embarrassed and awkward and worried in case her friend would reject her. That was one thing that could upset Rose as it happened very infrequently and never at home. Emma opened her eyes and mouth wide and to Rose's intense relief, the expression was one of pleasure and not shock.

"That's brilliant. Why did we never think of it before. Mum always worries that I'm on my own too much and doesn't realise that it isn't too lonely where I am. Your house or mine?"

This threw Rose into a ridiculous state of indecision. She hadn't thought things through that far.

"I tell you, bags me your house. It sounds interesting but I have to talk to mum first,"Emma said, starting to chatter away.

"Eat up your dinners. You're supposed to be out to play," called out an inevitable loud voice. Both girls realised that there weren't many there at dinner. They looked down at their lukewarm dinner, bolted it down, politely handed their trays back and ran with carefree abandon as soon as they were out of the door. They'd only got ten minutes till afternoon lessons.

Unfortunately, the afternoon started with maths and this was Rose's weak area. she could not get her head around what sounded like an infinity of rules. As she walked back to her formroom, she was already starting to feel diminished and she knew that her enemies wouldn't hesitate to help rub her nose in her deficiencies. The teacher only made matters worse as he was a short-haired man with a tight knotted red and white striped tie and his manner concealed the fact that he really disapproved of Rose's very existence. She was due to have her homework handed back and she feared that it was bad news. Sure enough, too many angry crosses populated the pages and the number of grudging ticks offered cold comfort. The teacher's sarcasm was his worst feature as she couldn't defend herself against it and it hurt her to her core.

"One of these days, Rose Stewart-Wade, you'll know what adding up and carrying over is all about. I suppose you know your two times table," was his parting shot accompanied by joking laughter from her enemies and dull acquiescence from the rest just before the bell for afternoon break. Rose rushed out of the formroom oblivious to everything except for her need to go somewhere safe and quiet like the girl's toilets where she could cry on her own. Putting her hands up to her face did no good to stop it.

The PE lesson did something to mitigate the hurt as Rose was nimble and quick-witted and it discharged a little of her wound up hurt and anger. When the final bell rang, she felt as if she'd been through a wringer and she rushed out of the school entrance barely acknowledging a concerned Emma and she sought the safety of Helen's car which was parked a little distance away. As Helen smiled warmly at her daughter, she knew in a flash that something was wrong with her but she saved up her quwhen they got back home and left her to watch children's TV till Nikki came home.

From the other side odf the glass window, Helen saw her daughter walk disconsolately towards her, got into the back seat and was very quiet during the journey home. It was clear that she felt that everything had gone wrong for her though she responded to Helen's periodic attempts at conversation. As soon as they got home, Rose took herself to her bedroom, a state of affairs that Nikki picked on immediately when she arrived. They made attempts at light conversations over evening dinner and, at last, Nikki posed the question Rose had been secretly dreading.

"What's been going on Rose? We know there's been something."

"Nothing much," came the ungracious reply. In reality she hated to lay worries on her mummies and any suggestion of blame for bringing her into the world and therefore responsibility for her predicament. Helen exchanged glances with her partner to think before speaking and she composed her thoughts into logical order.

"Rose, Nikki and I know how proud and independent you are and that's such a joy to us in watching you grow up. I'm sure you're having trouble dealing with what's gone wrong today and that happens to all of us some time or that's the case, please let us in so we can help you."

It was these compassionate words and two pairs of loving eyes that got through Rose armoured guard. All along the journey home, she'd worried in vain for an answer to her troubles, being sneakingly aware of sharp observation from the driving seat. She realised that this had rumbled along in a low key way for a long time before sharply peaking today. While she kept her two fists to her eyes, all her hurt and upset poured out in a stream of words. even then, the account held together with a certain ragged coherence. When she'd finished, she flung herself into Helen's arms who gently soothed her troubles with her shapely fingers, helped by Nikki who brought herself nearby.

"This needs stepping on straightaway," Nikki said with quiet determination as she and Helen let shock and horror floods through their systems and set their faces in stone as much as they loved their daughter deeply."How quickly can you get into the school? I'm asking as I'm absolutely stucvk to get time off and somehow, it feels better coming from you than me."

"it'll be my pleasure. I know I can do it," growled Helen."i'll take it up with the school head and if she doesn't play ball, we'll drag in the heavy artillery. Either Jo mills or George Canning would jump at the chance to have their guts for garters."

"Jo," questioned Rose, her head spinning around as she couldn't work out this grown-up talk. To her, Jo Mills was the kindly woman who'd had a knack for talking with chi8ldren and had settled her down with her less confident friend, Jane Lancaster. She'd not talked very much about herself."She's nice but what can she do?"

"Only that both of them are top class barristers- they deal with laws and arguing in court. if mummy's verbal muscle doesn't work, our friends can make it very hard for the school," Nikki explained with masterly understatement." Those two teachers need cutting down to size. Once that's done, I'm sure you can handle the rest2

Rose'd eyes opened wide and her mouth formed a perfect nought. She never knew how much her mummies and her friends could do.

In a white hot fury, Helen made an appointment with the head teacher the following day. She got an urgent appointment in the morning and stormed into the little office and opened up without any preamblepreamble.

"My name's Helen Stewart and I wish to make a complaint about the way my daughter Rose Stewart-Wade has been treated by two of your behaviour amount to homophobia and leaves my daughter to being bullied by other pupils which also happened. Rose should never have been picked out for public humiliation You know that I've got all the rights in the world for my family to be treated in a way that doesn't discriminate," Helen stormed in her best Wing Governor's style.

The head teacher had been expecting this as soon as the appointment had been made. As he did his rounds of the school, he couldn't help but notice the very lively little girl who had the knack of standing out from the crowd. The school file on his desk contained details of Helen Stewart and Nikki Wade as next of kin with a red scrawled note in the margin of the first page advising of the relatyionship. He'd also come across disturbing rumours, nothing certain, of the way she was treated and he had concerns about the maths teacher's unfortunate manner. all in all, he decided to tread carefully.

"Ms Stewart, I appreciate your concern but you have to understand I do not necessarily keep tabs on every child who is under my care. I know you're angry but it would help me get to the bottom of the situation by telling me everything in logical sequence," he spoke with quiet firmness.

This response momentarily took Helen aback as it had a closer similarity to her own modus operandi. She steadied herself and as she unreeled her concerns, she judged that the man was really listening rather than going through the motions as he winced a couple of times. Nevertheless, he needed to probe the evidence further.

"From my memory, your daughter is a really excellent pupil who is a credit to you and your partner's upbringing..."

"Oh thank you," smiled Helen in premature gratitude.

"...but her one weakness is in maths. Isn't it possible that your daughter was justly marked down on her homework and took offence atr it. At the very least, she has come catching up to do."

"I think you know more about my daughter than you're letting on," Helen retorted with a knowing grin on her face.

It was the head teacher's turn to feel uncomfortable as this shrewd thrust sank home. This Ms Stewart was no blusterer but was tougher and shrewder than most. A long silence elapsed as there was a silent internal; debate as to who would make the first move...

In another part of the school, Rose had a distracted air as she knew that her formidable mother was going into battle and any moment now, the scales of fortune were tilting, possibly in her favour.

"Rose, I'd like an answer to the question you put your hand up to answer," called out her English teacher in kind hearted tones. The little girl looked a mile away and that was unusual.

"Oh yes, sorry miss, I was a mile away," the flustered little girl answered while her enemies laughed secretly behind the palms of their hands at her.

Finally Helen spoke at the moment of decision.

"All right, I know maths is Rose's weak point. I work with accounts but that's as far as I go. Nikki is strictly arts biased. I need to think over how I can help. What I want in return is whether or not you're prepared to make a full enquiry and, if you agree with me, make sure you kick a few backsides."

"And if I were to refuse?" replied the head teacher.

"Then I'll take the matter to either of my two female barrister friends and sue the backside off the council. The buck has to stop somewhere," retorted Helen with a glitter in her eye.

"In that case, I'll carry on where I left off and there'll be a thorough impartial investigation and, if you've got the facts right, I'll have words to say to as many teachers and pupils as I see fit. This won't happen again, I guarentee it."

Helen extended her hand forward and shook the teacher's hand warmly as the man's perspective tilted ever more sharply towards belief in her. There's one hour and fifteen minutes work well spent, she thought.


	19. Chapter 19

Today was the day that had finally come after all the painful months of day by day countdown, the middle aged woman thought as her eyes flickered open and she found herself lying in the narrow bunk in the whitewashed brick lines cell. Her name was Mel Bridges, one time aspiring rock star and this was Larkhall Prison. She'd lain frozen in time since she'd sent doqwn for the control and supply of class A drugs and to this day, she'd forgotten how she'd drifted into being a drugs baron. Somewhere out beyond the prison walls lay another world that had felt frozen in time since when she'd last known it. True, she'd watched the sporadic flow of communal television where Big Brother had given way to Jeremy Kyle but she only knew life as it cost to keep herself in food and drink back in 2003.

She got a little anxious when she considered that today she was due to gain her freedom as she'd got accustomed to rigid routines that controlled her life. That had seemed inconceivable a lifetime ago as her self-image was of a freewoman beholden to no one but she'd learned to accept her lot. It had included being woken up by cell call, morning showers, meals on time, handling the sparse allowance of weekly spends and now she was free to look after herself in the wide open world, the envy of other prisoners. Somehow, reversing the accustoming to discipline seemed scarier than she'd thought. Even though she'd looked after herself for years, it felt like a different lifetime ago, hopelessly unreal.

Mel finally thought of her sleeping arrangements as she looked down at the bunk beneath her. She'd easily seduced the yoyung innocent who'd recently replaced her second bed partner she'd shared cells with. The girl was a prostitute who was curiously carried away by their romance as sex with another woman opened up possibilities she'd not dreamed of. Mel was only too glad to play the role of the experienced older woman.

"You'll wait for me on the outside when I get out? It'll only be a couple of months. Bastard judge had it in for me or I'd be with you sooner," the girl asked anxiously as the sunlight woke her eyes. She'd been getting increasingly anxious as the days had marched forwards relentlessly to Mel's expected date of release. For all their months of closeness, she'd not been able to read the other woman's feelings on the matter but she presumed she'd be glad to be free. Such a prospect had cropped up from time to time amongst the old stagers but always sounded vague and unreal.

"Of course babes," Mel answered carelessly."I'll get a flat for us both ready for when you get out.I'll write to you for a VO, honest."

At that, a wide smile of reassurance spread across the girl's face. The moment of parting promised to be painful, perhaps more than she could bear. She'd felt so good about herself in all the past months away from the meat market outside and snuggled up next to her woman.

Over the past seven years since Mel had arrived, Larkhall Prison had gone through its successive changes. A number of the old stagers who'd been there since time immemorial like the two Julies and denny Blood had finally found their freedom and had pledged to settle down in the same neck of the woods. They'd been joined by Pat Kerrigan and Sheena Williams but a number of strong minded women who didn't see it as their life's duty to scratch each other's eyes out had taken up the slack. Joy Masterton had just about survived the scandals that Kristine Thorne's undercover work had brought to light but the fire had gone out of her bootcamp attitude and she was content to let the prison toddle along without rocking the boat, especially as Di Barker, Kevin Spiers and Sylvia Hollamby were all sacked.

That was the start of Lou Stoke coming to greater prominnce before she finally took over as Governing Governor when Joy Masterton wearily obtained early retirement. Today, she sat in her officeswearing at the world around her as the latest batch of e mails flooded in from the ether. The ones headed prison Service Reform Project encapsulated her real problems these days. These were overcrowding and the worry of the prison being privatised thanks to Neil Haughton's obsessive drive to please his political masters. She knew that maintenance and the kitchen service were ripe for being hived off, if not the whole shooting match.

"The prisoners aren't really a problem. They do what they have to do and everything depends on whether you handle them with a bit of nous especiaqlly as Buxton is out of the way," she said reflectively to herself, referring to the most dangerous woman who'd been transferred to a maximum security prison." The prison officers are a pretty good bunch. It's just top management and the bloody government that turn my hair grey," she muttered to herself as she turned her attention back to the computer screen with its unwelcome messages. She was highly conscious that there was a lot going on in the troubled political waters that she shielded from prisoners and prison officers alike.

The two women made for the early morning lukewarm shower in line with the queue of other women, emerging with dripping wet hair and encased in their dressing gowns. as they dressed quickly for morning breakfast of the usual sausages and fried egg. To mel, every movement felt strangely slow and deliberate as the dulling consequences of endlessly repeated routines were beginning to be stripped away. As they were eating breakfast, Mel figured that she'd need everything on her plate to sustain her till her next meal which would be at the hostel the prison services had arranged for her. She knew fior certain that the council house she'd lived in before she'd been imprisoned had long since been given up and it depressed her. She knew that the golden memories of her affair with Jo Mills, her friend from her schooldays and one off bandmate, would never return even though she knew she hadn't been entirely honest with deathly communication silence since her trial told her that Jo Mills had found a life away from her. Still, all that was left was her final performance, her parting bow which she'd negotiated. Ever since she was little, she'd always believed in making some kind of mark on life.

Colin Hedges strolled out onto the wing to be greeted with a murmured acknowledgement that could mean anything but, in his case, denoted respect. It wasn't that he was Principal Officer but that he'd remained the same sown to earth decent man that Nikki Wade had befrriended on her tour of inspection seven years previously. He'd floated the idea to the Wing Governor that Mel Bridges had suggested. While neither of them entirely trusted the soon to be ex-prisoner, they both thought it would be a nice gesture and that it would be a good performance, judging from the sprinkled notes of guitar strings they'd heard overr the years.

"Can I have your attention? Listen up everyone. The gov's agreed for a little treat after breakfast. Seeing as this is Mel Bridges' last day here, we thought it would cheer everyone up for her to play us a few songs before we send her on her way. Let's give her a hand," he announced in the rare break in the general conversation.

A scattering of applause rippled round the atrium as they relished the music more than the person. In Mel's head she was back where she needed to be, on stage before an adoring audience as she slung her guitar strap across her shoulders. True, her leather jacket was the worse for wear, the guitar strings were badly in need of replacement and her guitar was sadly unpolished and battered but her voice was as clear and true as it ever was. She found herself a place to lean back against the servery and started to tinkle a few introductory notes before launching into her first song, the atrium being a perfect echo chamber .

Colin had to hand it to Mel Bridges as her guitar framed perfectly her soft clear voice poured over the audience like golden honey, her worsds seeped into the hidden crevices of sensitivities amongst even the toughest of the women. One of them sat at the table, legs stretched out and arms folded but her eyes were wide open. Mel went through her repertoire of songs she'd built up over the years, leaving on one side songs that could only be performed by a three piece electric band. She was aware of the effect she was creating, particularly on her cellmate whose tears were coursing down her face. Halfway through her second song, she got up hurriedly and dashed to the washroom area while Mel carried on singing and playing as the show must go on.

A few hours later, she paced her way down the wing, guitar case in one hand and her belongings packed into a single plastic bag. She reflected on the fact that she had always travelled light throughgout her life. Soon, the sights and sounds, including the final applause, faded behind in the gentle wind outside in the bright sunlight and wide open spaces. After all, the prison was hidden away in a little known backwater in the London metropolis.

True to form, her elderly mother turned up in an elderly Ford Escort, ready to take her away. She smiled fondly,lumbered her possessions into the back seat and got into the passenger seat.

"Hi mum, I'm so glad you could help out. It's great to see you when I needed you," she said placatingly to the other woman. she knew that she'd never really been forgiven for wilfully stepping away from the path that her mother had lovingly mapped out for her. Becoming a lesbian interfered with maternal plans at one remove and settling down in life and the tabloid headlines seven years ago were the final straw.

"I'll take you to your hostel, that's what we agreed to. A leopard doesn't change her spots," came the ungracious reply from the other woman as she forced the gearstick into place and hurriedly moved them away from this place of shame into the high street.

"I mean we've got more chance of some quality time together," Mel said quietly and persuasively. She felt a little dizzy and spaced out as the backstreets of London whizzed past at such an insane speed. It didn't bother her mother, strangely enough.

"I'll make sure you're settled in and I'll phone you up from time to time. The trouble is that we've got too much bad history between us. You can't shrug off consequences," her mother said cryptically. The younger woman couldn't deny it because, after all, she'd always wanted to make it on her own.

Pretty soon, Mel was deposited at the depressing looking hostel, complete with flaking blue pained stout wooden front door. It had done duty for many an ex-inmate of Larkhall Prison before her so the impersonally efficient keyworker was prepared for the latest intake. He briskly reeled off a list of instructions as she showed Mel to her single room. another person keen to tell her how to live her life, Mel thought but she wasn't in any mood for open dissent. She desperately needed time to find her own feet, including a visit to the social security with her discharge grant paperwork and then she could pick up the threads of her former existence.

Two days later, she'd figured out the lay of the land, the feel of the neighbourhood streets around the hostel after having cashed her first girocheque. It had taken Mel a little while to get used to the way prices had jumped up since she was last on the outside and busy streets, going where she pleased felt disorienting to begin with until she got some kind of routine together. Unexpectedly, her mother had returned with her old belongings including her favourite cherry red electric guitar and amplifier.

"Don't thank me for it. I can't bear to see things thrown out so someone had to do it," her mother said in passing before zooming off. With a great joy in her heart, Mel plugged in her amplifier, set it to low volume and doodled around on the slim fitting fretboard. This gave her faint feelings of increased power flowing through her veins. She vowed to herself that as soon as she could do so, she'd let loose once again.

She freshened herself up a bit and inspected herself in the mirror. Though she was a little faded and worn, she reckoned she looked good to the eye in her rocker chic fashion. She set out defiantly to the pub her investigations had marked out as gay friendly. As she swung inside, a definite thrill of anticipation ran through her system as she was starting out all over again. Her attention was immediately grabbed by a slim lady with burly black hair, soft red lips, a low cut lacy black minidress showing off gorgeous long legs. The intense glow in the eyes of this sultry brunette zeroed straight through Mel and her throat turned dry. This was unbelievable luck, she thought as a girlish little voice flowed through her senses and she knew beyond doubt that she'd scored.

A couple of hours later of intimate conversation and a stroll upstairs and Mel was lying flat on her back and arching her back in ecstacy and her legs spread apart. She lay on fabulous scented white sheets in a wide double bed which she hadn't experienced for years and to make matters perfect, she was being exquisitely pleasured by a woman whose tongue was greedily licking inside her. This was the life, she sighed as she rose irresistably up to her first orgasm of the night while her lungs sought out extra oxygen as she cried out with pleasure.

As she gradually slid down off her fabulous climax, she sighed all the kind of endearments that came natural to her. She really did feel so happy and complete as this woman was dynamite.

"I knew I wanted you as soon as I saw you come in. A lady always knows," came the self-assured purring tones as she came into view.

"You don't waste any time babes. That's the way I like it," Mel said gently and admiringly as the two women slid round the curves of each other and moved round the wide open spaces of their bed. Pretty soon, Mel felt a soft hand upon her wrist and start to ease it along the length of her body. Judging by the way she kissed her with little sighing breaths and gently squirm with pleasure, this woman was on fire inside and hungry for her.

"I want you so much. I'm so moist inside," she murmured into Mel's ear in between kissing her neck.

"I'm not known to deny a lady her pleasures," Mel answered and her fingers trailed down her stomach and finally thrust inside her centre. Instantly, the curly- haired woman groaned in ecstacy and started pushing back perfectly with her hips, her legs widening open to make it easy for her. The obvious pleasure Mel was giving this woman was a real turn on and it was clear that she was being enveigled to play the part of the butch in this budding relationship. As she thought about it, she could live with it especially as this woman was as sexually rapacious as herself.. She leaned over the curly haired woman as her fingers started working faster inside the wetness of her lover. She had the the certain knowledge that this was going to be a night to remember.

"I never caught your name babes," a tired but satisfied Mel asked her lover an hour or so later as they lay side by side. She loved having her long dark hair gently stroked and every minute of their lovemaking. She'd never really had a woman who set her soul on fire like this and she reckoned with some pride that she'd bedded more than her fair share of women. It turned out from their earlier sexual circling round each other on the sofa that she ran the bar but she needed some help Well, she's woman enough for this, she thought with some self satisfaction..

"I'm Isobel. I like it. I think it suits me," the other woman gently cooed in her girlish fashion. Her raging desires had been quenched tonight by the feel of this demon lover being inside and around 'd kissed and tasted each other's bodies for hours and had only stopped when they'd both become finally exhausted and sexually satiated.

"My name's Mel, short for Melanie," came the slightly hoarse reply as she flicked her hair off her shoulders, a little mannerism that she knew would go down well.

"I don't normally pounce on the first woman who enters my pub. You're really special and that's different," Isobel murmured, her fingers lightly running down her lover's back.

"You're really gorgeous babes. Are you really tired out because I'm not," Mel said boldly as her fingers followed her eyes in stroking her lover's breasts. This was the perfect cue for Isobel to move into her lover's strong armsd and to start kissing and cuddling once again.

The following week, Mel persuded Isobel in their shared impulsive fashion to go up to London for the day, setting off from their shared flat over the pub. Mel loved the feel of city streets under her feet and the colourful sights and sounds of the metropolis. It made her feel she'd arrived. Her proceeds of her drug supplying had done her no good being impounded when she'd been arrested so her previous experiences of sleasy backstreets were behind her now.

She strolled along, hand in hand with her beloved who was dressed up in unbelievable high heels and a frothy black lace dress. Suddenly, they came to a busy junction and Mel caught a split second glimpse of the unmistakeable profile of Jo Mills. she was crossing her line of vision as she moved across her at righht angles amongst a stream of people and was soon swallowed up in the crowds. She was smartly dressed, head turned slightly away from herand chatting. Another woman was with her judging by the longish bair hair that floated back in a suidden breeze.

Isobel was looking in her critical fashion at the fashion shop the other side of Mel so she clean missed the brief expression on Mel's face. It denoted a temporary sense of loss and a flashback to her childhood. Her habitual 'don't look back' self defence took over, a phrase she'd heard of as a film title. She'd vaguely understood it was about an old time American folk singer but she'd never had the time to investigate it further as she was so caught up in the present.


	20. Chapter 20

John had got into the habit over the years of periodically receiving a friendly greeting of "Hi it's Kristine" in her well modulated pleasant voice and feelings his spirits instantly lift. Thios time, it wasn't that long ago that they'd gone out for a meal and slept together, although time sequences didn't matter in itself. She returned from her own wanderings and they had the knack of being in the right mental state at the right time as he was conveniently unencombered at thatr moment.

"Lovely to hear from you as always," he answered and Kristine was instantly fond of the sound of that unmistakeable voice that had both class and intelligence."I assume you have some plan in mind for us both," he added, saying the first words that came to mind.

"Well, I've only just come back to London so you might know of a good restaurant. You know the kind of place I like," she answered carelessly. It did not cross his mind to ask where she'd been as their relationship was determinedly in the present though they'd had the chance to talk in depth and know each other at the Howard League of Penal reform where they'd both been guest speakers.

"So how's life going in these days in the halls of justice," Kristine asked lightly a few hours later on. She'd approved of his choice of restaurant. The atmosphere was pleasantly relaxing and, though it was large, it also conveyed a sense of intimacy in John's eyes.

"Oh, nothing much," John said in a leisurely fashion after he finished off the last of the soup and contemplated the world with faraway eyes."I've seen quite a bit of Sir Ian Rochester recently and strangely enough, qwe get on comfortably. I reminisce with Monty about the old days when Nikki and Helen were more in our orbit and made our lives interesting and, oh yes, there was the judges' bash."

The change in expression on Kristine's face told John straightaway that he'd made a serious blunder. The momentary chill silence felt twice as long as it's timespan and this didn't help him feel any better.

"The judges' bash? You mean that friends of yours like George and Jo Mills gathered for a drinks evening not counting others I've met over the years and you didn't tell me about it?" she finally said in outraged tones and certainly weren't theatrical banter.

"You know how it is, Kristine. You come and go.I never know where you are at any given moment," John started to say but Kristine cut him off.

"Not good enough, John Deed. You have my mobile number. You could have phoned. You know how prompt I am in getting back to you even if I'm not immediately available."

There began a ding dong verbal battle of wills which John inwardly felt he was steadily losing however much he robustly defended himself. Kristine pressed him hard on the matter until John sort of apologised as he'd totally overlooked the matter at which point, Kristine smiled ever so slightly. A silence fell around them while other couples chatted sporadically in the soft lights around them all.

"It's all right John. Part of me likes a really good argument from time to time and, fortunately you don't make it easy. There's always another time," she said in gentle tones.

"I didn't know you cared so much," John found himself blurting out. The words hung on the air until the waiter arrived to take their order for the main meal. Automatically, John found himself reading out the choices as the restaurant didn't have a Braille version of the menu. It seemed that they fitted around each other without thinking about it as Kristine told the waiter of their selection in a clear tone of voice. John was suffused with the easy familiarity with which they were to spend the night together as they'd become accustomed to do.

The maths teacher strolled along the corridor with his hands in his pockets and not a care in the world when he sighted the head teacher's door. He'd been left a note to call in for a private meeting which he assumed was nothing but good news, possibly a chat about his future job role and his career in general. he'd moved to this school a year or so ago and he felt that his energetic enthusiasm and go getting style was giving his pupils the extra push they needed. He conceded that not all of them were receptive but reckoned that you can't make an omelette without breaking eggs or so he'd been brought up to believe.

He'd spent his tea break in his special seat in the staff common room surveying all around him. His superior gaze briefly passed by the English teacher, the pupils' friend who'd had obvious reasons in blanking his natural charms. He looked at the new teacher with more sympathetic attention and had him figured as having the right attitude but a bit sure on nous. He was shuffling a piece of paper nervously before he sf out the door as soon as the bell rang.

The head teacher wiped his brow after getting to the bottom of his first investigation. As it started to get underweigh, it immediately struck him how vague and misleading his description and explanation of the sequence of events and how crystal clear Ms Stewart's account sounded. The facts sprang out into the open air in short order. What he needed to decide was whether this was stupidity or prejudice. The way the dialogue was phrased left him

"But I'd never heard before of two women, err, living like that and with a girl. I honestly thought the child had made a mistake and I wanted to put it right," he finally attempted to excuse himself.

"So why didn't you properly intervene to step her being got at?" the head teacher pursued.

"I did try and shut everyone up and get on with the lesson," the teacher answered, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. The head teacher decided to keep it short and sharp and made it clear that any more complaints along this line would be more severely dealt with. The man caved in at once and finally tottered out of the room and headed for his next lesson. In the meantime, the head teacher had some homework marking to do for the class he taught ready for the next inquisition which promised to be a trickier affair.

The maths teacher strolled in with all the confidence in the world but was sharp enough to spot the look on the other man's face which wasn't as welcoming as expected. His defences were up at once.

"I've received a strong complaint by the mother of one of your pupils, Rose Stewart-Wade relating to the last lesson you took her for. She says that you were sarcastic and negative in your manner. Perhaps you care to explain what happened?"

"Oh that girl," he replied dismissively."Of all my pupils, she's definitely on the bottom rung. She really doesn't respond to all I'm trying to do."

"Perhaps it's the way you say things. I've got her reports in front of me. She's certainly very talented in english and arts but not so hot at maths. It's not uncommon. You should be able to handle a pupil who has an enquiring original mind and pleasant enough from what I've seen of her."

"But that doesn't take away from the fact that I can't get through to her but I can with her peers. She's not on my wave length. She's not on anyone else's," blustered the man, running his hand through his spiky hair.

The head teacher raised his eyebrows as he picked up the other man's rising tone of exasperation in his voice. The final words sounded personal to him. His thoughts flicked over and over like a falling hand of playing cards to shape the conclusion that Ms Stewart's verdict was harsh but thoroughly justified.

"You know as well as I do that all children should be treated alike. You've got enough experience to know this. I know there's a lot you're not talking about and I assure you that the only way to save your skin is to be honest," he said in determined tones, knowing that he was pitching this just right to eliminate this outbreak of homophobia. The logic was mathmatically correct. Hee kept it in reserve that Ms Stewart's promise of extra teaching for Rose would be the final clincher on tghe deal he was determined to impose.

St Mary's hospital was a typical NHS edifice, a red brick Victorian core with a series of bolt ons over the years, in particular a late nineteen austere forties wing and most recently, a spacious atrium beloved of the recent customer services ethos. Somewhere in the middle, its soul and purpose lay in clinically clean wards and operating theatres in which the daylight was rarely seen. It was here that Nurse Lancaster and Junior Sister Betts materialised in their professional selves at the allotted of their lovers, Jo Mills barrister at law was similarly reaching for her white wig and black gown from her locker. The other lover, Beth Pritchard put on her dark glasses while preparing to drive up the motorway against the dazzling sunlight just after exchanging a tender conversation with Karen just when she was changing where she wished her all the best for her new press assignment.

Both women had been around long enough to be sure of themselves to be suire of their position in the hospital hierarchy and kept clear of petty jealousies. On the face of it, the consultants and, below them, the registrars ruled the roost while Karen and Jane and their like were the mere assistants. In reality, their assistance was vital for the day to day running and an avuncular consultant like Ric Griffin, a medical versaion of the newscaster, Trevor McDonald madee his quietly persuasive presence felt. However, Jac Naylor the very abrasive and ambitious registrar really believed it. Both Karen and Jane noted how she also treated junior registrars under her iron tutelege with equal high-handed lashing sarcasm and they were hard put to it to deploy subtle techniques of subtle deflection to hold their own.

"Oh, I suppose that you and your underlings are working to rule? Sorority rules OK. I need an extra scrub nurse aqnd I don't suppose you care that my operations are backing up fast," she sneered at Karen just when she was in the middle of checking off her duty roster. This woman was acting like a spoilt child, she sighed under her breath, just when she needed Jane to work for her for her own purposes. Very reluctantly, her professionalism bade her to switch Jane for scrub nurse duty for the urgent operation Jac Naylor was jumping up and down about and Jane gave her a sideways look. Both women were worldly wise enough to suspec that there was an underlying self interested motive in raising Jac's profile. Karen also knew that Jane hated working for Jac Naylor but she could see no way out of it.

"Ok, I'm assigning you Jane Lancaster. You should know that the nurses have been run off their feet recently. I want her back with me for a job I've got later on today so just remember it," Karen replied, unable to prevent an edge of exasperation leaking into her voice in the last few words.

"My my, a case of PMT if I'm not mistaken, Junior Sister Betts. I suppose you save it up for work like you all do. Anyway, you come with me," Jac retorted, a flick of her long brown hair being her gesture of demanding to be instantly obeyed. Karen's look of regret criss-crossed with Jane's of suppressed anger.

The operation might have lasted an hour, give or take a bit but to Jane, it was an eternity of torture, only alieviated by the job in hand. The job was easy enough, given her length of all round experience but it was made a nightmare of pedantic, hair-splitting torture of just how the particular surgical tools must be presented. Jane begrudgingly conceded that Jac Naylor was talented, but bitterly resented her prima donna ways which there was no need of. When she'd finished, she bestowed satisfaction which largely centred on herself, and at that point Jane shifted off quickly. Her moment of emotional release was in hurling off her scrubs to the far corners of the changing room and finally making a bolt back to the ward.

Akll this time, Karen had busied herself as best as she could but a good half of her mind was worrying about Jane. She knew her friend was experienced enough but she had a bad, bad feeling nonetheless. One look at Jane's face as she strode towards her told her the worst.

"Want to talk in private? It's best you say what you're going to say in private," Karen jumped in. It captured the other woman's rage and gave her a measure of self control.

"Anyone wants me, I'm busy. Anything you can't handle then hold off till I'm back and that includes any requests for help," Karen said shortly, indicating that sghe trusted their initiative.

"I'll kill Jac Naylor," Jane said huskily, her hands white and shaking which told Karen everything.

"I shouldn't wonder but she's not worth doing time for. Believe me I know," she said clearly and firmly to the nurse which trook her aback. She didn't think she should be considered speaking literally."Go on, kick the wastebin. I'll cover for you."

Jane shot her boss and friend a grateful look, jumped up and a resounding clatter split the silence while Karen looked on nonchalently.

"That feels a whole lot better but we need to stop being fucked around by the likes of her, all of us. We ought to work to rule or something," Jane said in an unsteady voice as she was gathering her thoughts.

"We're without a RCN rep at present. The last one got a move up north," Karen answered as a formal statement, letting the pause sink in.

A wide smile started to spread across the other woman's face as a brilliant idea started glowing in her mind with a blinding light.

"Hey Karen, that's the answer. Jac bloody Naylor keeps throwing sarky comments like that in our faces. Why don't we take her up on the offer. You'd make a great rep. You've got the get up and go and everyone respects you..."

A vivid flashback temporarily dazed Karen. There she was, not wearing her dark blue uniform but her favourite brown suit. She was outside Larkhall Prison greenhouse and she was G Wing Governor and fighting an undercover battle with Eric Bostock, that hatchet faced chief executive officer of Lynford Securities in his bid to take over the prison. Yvonne Atkins was the leader of the prisoners, the first woman she'd ever fancied and flirted with, and she was leading a sit in along with prisoners whom she respected for the most part in fighting the same battle as herself in occupying the greenhouse. She had protested against the heavy handed suggestion for prison officers to storm the greenhouse.

"Karen Betts, voice of the people. Shouldn't you be in there with him?" Bostock had sneered. How long ago that moment had seemed when she was a lifetime's experiences from the woman she was now? All at once she returned to the present and her sense of reality outweighed the delicious temptation to stick it to them. She knew the right answer and reached for the letter in her drawer.

"I hate to disappoint you Jane but I have to decline. Take a look at the letter from Human Resources promoting me to Ward Sister in place of Chrissie Williams who moves over to Keller ward," karen said regretfully, flattered by her friend's vote of confidence in her.

"That means you'll have even more power," broke in Jane eagerly until Karen cut in.

"I'd be only too glad to stick it to Jac Naylor any way how but we need to look to the long run. Who knows, there could be nurses complaining and I couldn't be boss and rep at the same time, especially if I'm the subject of the complaint. I'd be in too compromising a situation."

"Then who's there to do the job?" remonstrated Jane forcibly and then saw the meaning look in Karen's eye."You mean me," she added fearfully, her breath taken away by the prospect. .

"You've come a long way without knowing it. You're not Miss Party Girl out on the pull and for the nearest bar though you know how to have a good time. You've got just as much strength in you as I have. You've got the lovely Jo Mills on hand for legal advice if you need it. You don't just mouth off as others listen to you," Karen said clearly and Jane knew she'd changed, becoming more serious and outward looking.

"That's all very flattering but I don't see myself as onwe tough bitch," protested Jane.

"There's ways and means of doing things and you've got more prospects than most. I can still be your useful second string against the likes of Jac Naylor. Think about it Jane. Two for the price of one," insisted Karen persuasively.

A whole lifetime passed while Jane fell silent as her fears battled with her selfless ambitions. It was true that she had more verbal confidence than most but was that enough? Karen looked on sympathetically, notr wanting to crowd her friend.

"I don't want to spoil our friendship if I'm as mouthy as you think I am," she said a little shakily as she weighed the idea carefully."If I do this, I'll need someone available to coach me and training. I want to know what I can and can't do. I don't want to pole in and make an arse of myself. I also want to check it out with Jo," Jane finished in her appealingly frank fashion.

"I'll contact Chrissie. She knows everything around St. Mary's and I'll need a little hand holding myself for my new job so I know what you mean," joked Karen about the veery heterosexual Chrissie Williams."Any other help I can organise including time off, I'll get for you. after all, we trust each other."

A warm glow settled down on the room as if the sun was shining down instead of the fluorescent strip lights above them. Suddenly, the door opened and Jac Naylor poked her sour face round the corner.

"I heard the sounds of ructions down the corridor and I thought should I phone security?" she jibed.

"There's nothing in my room that I can't handle and also on my ward seeing as I'm taking over from Chrissie Williams as Ward Sister. Just remember that," glared Karen angrily. Jane suppressed her laughter while Jac Naylor's face dropped a mile. She'd find out in due course the other bombshell of the other news item to be arranged at a nurses meeting.


	21. Chapter 21

The young teenager was sprawled out on his unmade bed, the one place in the world he could call his own and, even if it looked a sight being strewn with discarded clothing, coke cans and cheap magazines, it was his own clutter. On the walls were recent pictures of football stars, the ones he'd got to know about and discuss with his schoolfriends and learnt to hold his own in talking about them. In the corner, his school bag lay where he'd thrown it.

On this evening, he wasn't going out to see his friends as he might have expected so he felt down in the dumps. He slouched past the front door when he came in from sciool and hadn't felt like joining his mother and Cassie and his younger sister Niamh as he'd badmouthed them in the past and didn't feel comfortable with them. He said a few words and went straight to his bedroom and he could sense that, on the far side of his bedroom door, a happy atmosphere of domesticity prevailed which he tried his best to shut his ears to.

A long time ago, he was a happy and carefree boy, he'd inhabited that world without thinking. It was only at brief moments like these that he grudgingly admitted that he'd lost something along the way. He'd started to go through chages and couldn't understand what was happening to him. For a start, he'd started to gain height rapidly but had become lanky and ungainly and that bothered him. He'd let his hick black hair grow longish and untidy, always a bone of contention around the all linked to the way that questions had started ctreeping into his mind that he'd never thought to ask of himself before, who he thought he was, what others might think of him and above all, how normal he was. This last question was a real torment as it had only been a few months ago he had innocently blurted out that he and his sister lived with two mothers. He'd been questioned upon the matter and he had to admit that Cassie hadn't been around all his life but just acted like a parent. He'd been deeply embarrassed and resented his mother and Cassie for bringing all this trouble on him. It wasn't fair of them to wish all his troubles on him and, no he wasn't going to talk to them about it as he wasn't a little boy any longer. Niamh wasn't any use to talk to as she was on their side and she was just a kid so she didn't understand him.

All these swirling emotions was why he next turned to his music. He'd been given an expensive music centre for his last birthday. Throughout the runup to that day, he'd become temporarily nicer in his manner even though he'd pleaded and pleaded for such a present. He had detected waverings in the normally solid united front that his mother and Cassie normally exerted and his sharp ears had heard a snatch of conversation.

"If he likes music and if it's something he really wants. It'll give him an intetrest," he'd heard his mother say through a door left ajar to another room.

"Depends on the music. OK that makes me sound uncool, turn the music down and all that. At that age, you're not sure what you want. The only thing I knew I liked was girls. All right, I haven't any other idea," Cassie's slightly sharper voice was heard to reply. At that moment, he knew he'd won.

He remembered the monment of pleasure with which he let Cassie help set up the system and the first few Cds that he bought. he knew his friends liked them so therefore he liked them. It was what there was these days.

The thumping noise from his speakers did the trick in slightly raising his spirits as he mouthed along to the sounds. They sounded as angry as he felt and locked him into a world of sound and rhythm into which nothing interfered or bothered. It was only later that he suddenly realised he was hungry so he helped himself to some cold pizza on a plate in the fridge. It was then that he wearily contemplated doing the most pressing of his homework assignments to keep the teachers off his back.

As Roisin clicked off her computer at the end of the afternoon and slipped on her dark jacket, she looked nervously round the open plan office. She senses that work's certainties that kept her feeling competent and assured were starting to slip away. The uncertainties of home life started to creep colsdly into her veins. The worst of it was that Cassie, her partner and lover was perfect in her strength and loyalty and Niamh was a charming ten-year old. The elephant in their room was Michael, a surly fourteen year old who was feeling more and more of a stranger, a cuckoo in their nest whose adolescent turbulence resurrected her old feelings of guilt that she thought dead and buried and these battled with intense exasperation and in the middle of which was her enduring love which felt badly rewarded. The closer she drew nearer to home, the closer she was to his rejecting presence. It was so unfair, her more combative nature told her as she'd more than made up for the disruption in hers and Niamh's lives when she and Cassie wwere imprisoned and they were left in the horrible combination of her ex-husband and his mother.

She started working on the family meal straighaway for when Cassie and the children came home as she always had done and her nerves were already drum tight. Finally, the sound of the front door opening caused her eyes to swivel round. She took in a downcast Michael who informed him that he wanted last night's leftover cold pizza and was staying in. While he headed for his bedroom, a confused Roisin wasn't sure whether his move to isolate himself was better for the family than the peace and quiet of him going out except that she was always worrying what he might be getting up to in the hours or so that he wasn't in the house. She had an uneasy feeling about teenagers hanging around street corners and didn't know if that's what Michael was getting up to, something she didn't do when she was young in far off Ireland. He used to be so open and of sunny disposition contrasted with the close mouthed surly adolescent and this made Roisin especially insecure. The only problem was that Michael was excluding himself from the family, or so she felt and that made her feel guilty.

Niamh Conor had grown up to be a fairly placid child and had moved away from the nuisance baby sister role that she used to be. Her mother was in prison years ago and her father and grandmother were absolutely horrid to her and about her mother. That made her dreadfully insecure as she'd grown up in an atmosphere of family tensions that she could feel but nobody explained to her why things should be that way. Finally, her mother came back into her life and a woman called Cassie breezed into the family and waved away all this bad feeling, bringing in lightness and relaxation. Both of them explained that she and Michael now had two mummies and because everything felt right, she happily accepted this second change in her life. Mummy was so much more confident and happy so everything was right. She happily accepted their house move as she loved these new surroundings and got on like a house on fire with Nikki and Helen and their charming little daughter. Niamh could still remember how a fresh faced and boyish Michael happily played lego with Rose and that happy memory upset her. She senses that Michael had become ashamed of the family he grew up in and also of their neighbours as they were just like her own family.

With a resigned sigh, Niamh trudged up the front path to be affectionately greeted by mummy but she could sense the tension in the hugs. Cassie was due home soon and was guarenteed to brighten things up a bit but she also knew that Michael's moods were bound to take all that good feeling away from her.

"Is there anything wrong darling?" a slightly anxious Roisin asked of her little daughter who felt tense to her touch.

"Nothing's wrong, . I'm a bit tired, that's all," she answered with one of her rare smiles. Niamh couldn't help but realise that the brilliantly warm smile she received wasn't common these days and she felt a little guilty in trying to say the right thing, even if it wasn't strictly accurate. They chatted for a little while, each of them knowing that time was running out on them and they were both getting tense for the moment that normality would cease. At last, Niamh asked the question that had been on her mind all this while.

"I wondered if Alice and Emma could come round for tea this Saturday. we've been talking about it," she said in deliberate tones without thinking about it."I think Michael was talking of seeing his friends," she added, substituting the word talking for bragging.

At that moment, Cassie blew in with her customary cheerfulness which was seized upon like an oasis popping up in the middle of a desert. both Niamh and her partner Roisin knew that this quick-witted woman with sharp hearing was abreast of the situation and her presence temporarily dispelled the growing sense of negativity.

"What do you think Cassie?" she asked anxiously, conscious that Michael wasn't home yet.

"It's a no-brainer," Cassie pronounced in a determined fashion." You have equal rights to Michael and you asked first,"

"That's great. We'll be ever so good. I think you know Emma," Niamh said gratefully.

"The way I see it, there's been the four of us here at weekends for weeks so it'll be a treat for us."

"If you can call it four," Niamh said under her breath as the words shot out of her mouth. The huge feeling of relief had loosened her normally guarded tongue on matters like this. A long silence ensued as both Roisin and Cassie knew what their daughter was talking about but both of them had hesitated dragging this out into the open for fear of taking sides.

"Even if Michael's acting pretty badly at times, it would be wrong for him to be pushed further away from the family. It also means that your rights need standing up for as well," Roisin finally said with careful deliberation, feeling as if she were delicately balenced and any sharp move would tip her off the edge.

"I wasn't exactly the ideal teenager when I was growing up. The real problem is that I frankly haven't got a clue how this all started. We'd better leave it at this," Cassie chipped in, expelling a lot of pent up emotion

A sudden hush fell over the home. The matter was temporarily decided but, while normal family life was still continuing, a growing sense of imminent disruption was hanging in the air. It was the anticipated moment when Michael was due to come home. Would he be angry, would he be sullen or would he be depressed and uncommunicative? They'd seen all these variations in all these months. Finally, as the front door opened, Roisin couldn't help her teacup grating against her saucer as her nerves jumped up inside her.

"Have you had a nice day, Michael?" she asked with forced brightness, trying to catch his eye.

The monosyllabic answer from the youth as he slung down his school bag on the floor and his downcast eyes merely announced that he was staying in. His monosyllabic grunt to the other three was a generalised greeting before he shoved off in the direction of his bedroom. Anything could have happened to him that day.

The other three started chatting away about Niamh's day at school, including her brief glimpse of Rose Stewart-Wade. Niamh thought fondly of the lively little girl who raced around without a care in the world. She wished that she could be as bold as her. Nevertheless, she sat happily in her armchair and watched mum and Cassie potter about her, loving feelings flowing easily between the three of them. It made her feel looked after and secure and having two mums felt the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, a thumping rhythm shattered the domesticated peace and quiet. It put them on edge as it sounded like someone's ugly blind anger at work.

"Oh no, not that again," groaned Cassie in exasperation. What upset Niamh was that she had always looked up to Cassie as the blond-haired superwoman. Nothing had been beyond the cool, daring creature who had breathed life into their home and had got mum to relax and become strong as well as loving and motherly. Even Cassie hadn't dared challenge Michael heas on about the matter as she and Cassie knew that Michael would only turn round and go out with his friends. Cassie clicked on the TV while Roisin cooked dinner but it couldn't help but be drowned out and overpowered. So the evening progressed as something to be endured, leaving them feeling powerless and angry.

After all the hard slog of the day's work, Cassie and Roisin private moment came at last as they loved the intimacy of getting undressed in front of each other and coming together for the feel of each other's soft skin against each other as they lay in bed together curled up in each other's were physically and emotionally exhausted and faced a couple more days at both ends of the spectrum before the weekend. Nevertheless, they grabbed this segment of time for a heart to heart talk.

"This is getting impossible, Cassie. I don't know how to deal with Michael these days.I'm not imagining it that he wasn't always like this," confessed Roisin into her lover's ear.

Cassie knew her partner well enough to detect a defensive undertone in her voice but her guilt could be excused as she found the problem equally intractible.

"Going through teenage years don't help but not everybody's the same. I'm sure you were a good girl when you were his age," Cassie said tentatively as her fingers meditatively stroked her partner's back.

"And what of it?" Roisin asked anxiously pulling a little way back from her partner.

"There's nothing wrong with you babe," Cassie said softly and affectionately, gently kissing the other woman on her lips."It's just that you grew up in far off Connemara the way your parents wanted you to and i grew up as a smartass pretend rebel in croydon with an eye to my future. Things were fixed and certain and, in our case, opposites attract you know."

"That's more like it darling," Roisin said smiling as she ran the fingers of her right hand down through her lover's blond hair and going on to gently squeeze her lover affectionately."Let's run with this as I don't see where Michael fits in."

"That's where I get stuck. I've tried to meet Michael on his terms and it was easier when he was younger. The problem is that I really don't know how a boy becomes a man. All my experiences have been women or guys I've worked with...," confessed Cassie trailing off inconclusively.

"So why has he turned against us and blanked Niamh. They act as if they're on different planets," Roisin pursued, just ablt to see Cassie's blue eyes in the dim light as they lay on their sides, facing each other.

"All I can figure out and this is guesswork is that he's getting peer pressure we don't know about. Perhaps he once let slip something about us and he's been made to see us as an embarrassment," Cassie replied as the thoughts fell out of her head in sequence.

"My God," exclaimed Roisin in shock.

"You get ignorant people out there and they have ignorant kids. Besides, that's common for teenagers as they get self- conscious. I think back on the tantrums I kicked off with in my teens that I was trying to get away from being Mr and Mts tyler's daughter and being a dyke certainly helped. What complicates things for Michael is that he really loves us both and, because he feels guilty for badmouthing us, that only makes him worse," Cassie responded in slow even tones as she fiddled with a spare lock of Roisin's shoulder length brown hair as an aid to thinking.

A random memory came back into Roisin's mind after Cassie had finished talking. She was standing next to a pay as you go phone in Larkhall Prison and talking desperately to Michael via the delicate and easily breakable lifeline to her family. She remembered the drab, echoey alienated surrounding that was her life at the time.

"What's on your mind babes," Cassie asked gently. She could tell from her partner's stillness and slightly open mouth that she was thinking.

"I remember being on the phone to Michael when we were in Larkhall. I told him that I know how annoying sisters can be but he'd got to look after her especially as I wasn't around. He was such a good boy," Roisin said with a slight break in her voice and tears in her eyes. Cassie sensed this, softly kissed her eyes and squeezed her tight.

"Things have been better than that for years. I know that getting locked up and breaking from your ex didn't help our kids but we have to be strong for him and Niamh and somehow sort this out babes," Cassie said softly. Her patience and perseverence brought a different kind of tears to Roisin's eyes and she drew the blond-haired woman into a long soft kiss. It made them both feel better that, anyway, they weren't alone.

"We've been through such a lot siunce that do at the Dorchester to get to where we are now," Roisin said tenderly, touching the other woman's face wiuth both hands.

"Yeah, I remember it well. Just at the right moment, I said that you weren't just a brilliant PA but I really fancied the pants off of you," laughed Cassie as memories took her back in time to the lavish celebration by Roisin's ex to show off Mrs Aiden Connor to the glittering multitudes."You were wearing that long emerald coloured dress with your boobs on display and I had my favourite white suit."

"I was so shocked or so I told myself. I never thought a woman could be thought of that way. I was hideously embarrassed but I can't deny that it didn't start off a train of thought.," reminisced Roisin.

"If we dealt with all that, we'll sort out anything," Cassie said carelessly.

"Either that or something will happen so we get Michael back on the straight and narrow. We must have faith," Roisin said. These words brought a little smile on Cassie's lips and both of them finally snuggled down into the warmth and shelter of their bed. It was time to for them to sleep on things.


	22. Chapter 22

As John Deed drove hisw convertible along the city streets, a peculiarly strange feeling of shyness permeated his thoughts. This reality made him smile, that it could happen to a man who sat in his rich red robes on the throne of justice holding forth,who stood foremost at the barricades of justice, totally unawed by the rank of his enemies and who commanded wide respect. Still, the4re it was, he knew that his experience of children had faded with time and disuse as Charlie had grown up and had flown the nest years before. as the wind whipped past his windscreen and ruffled his hair, he recalled his friends' description iof Rose as a live wire who would keep him on his toes. He half suspected that he would encounter a mixture of incarnations of his friends and himself in the person of a little seven year old girl. Very well, he mouthed to himself, this was one of life's challenges he was destined to encounter just as years ago Nikki and Helen had combined to put him through changes in outlook to humanise him. All that was asked of him was that he should be ready for anything.

As he swung his car right into the expected destination, he felt as if he were revisiting an old friend. As he got out, he was mildly surprised as a dark-haired teenage lad, a quiet little girl and two women emerge from the house next door and approach him.

"Who are you?" the lad asked in a tone stopping short of rudeness.

"I'm John deed, an old friend of your neighbours, Nikki and Helen," John said with especial graciousness for the benefit of his friends' neighbours.

"And what are you?" came a second abrupt question.

"I'm a high court judge but this is my time off for good behaviour," a rejoinder that shut the lad up and made the girl grin. The taller dark-haired woman reacted immediately with an awestruck smile and moved forward to shake his hand.

"Helen and Nikki talk a so much about you. You've done such a lot for her and her friends."

"I've been into women all my life but you, John Deed, are a cool guy. It's typical that you drive a 's not for sissies. You give him respect, Michael," added the smaller blond haired woman shaking his hand with a pointed glance at the lad. She wanted to take Michael down a peg or two and also to honour someone she was unafraid to look up laughed easily at this sharp-witted observation which endeared him to its owner.

"Sorry. I should have thought," Michael said with a downcast gaze. He hadn't come across anyone who could squash his adolescent assertiveness so easily and this shook him.

As the conversation had started up, Rose's sharp ears picked up something worth investigating and she nipped off and opened the front door just as the group outside the houses were talking.

"You mean you're like st George killing dragons?" she interposed in a gap in the conversation. Her sharp eyes also spotted Michael on the edge of the group, trying to pretend not being impressed. The others smiled down approvingly on her apt remark and John laughed heartily.

"At the risk of being boaqstful, you're not far wrong, modern day dragons are bullies and sneaks who run the government and I use words, not swords, to fight for justice and fairness."

"A sword with the S taken off," Rose replied smartly.

"You must be Rose Stewart-Wade. It's a pleasure to meet you," John answered, his broad smile welcoming her into the group.

"We have to be going. we'd love to meet you again if we're passing by, sensing that Michael's restiveness could no longer be denied and stretching it out as the rest of them including Niamh were having a great time. To get consent for a family meal had been a large achievement not to be wasted.

"I'd be very pleased to meet you all again," John answered pleasantly, sensing that this might ease the tension whose cause he deduced with no problems at all. He waved them off in their car while Nikki emerged from the front door as the draught left by the open front door and sounds of conversation announced John's arrival as his voice was unmistakeable. .

"Enjoy yourself you guys. See you around," called out Nikki after the car as it started to move. She felt a little guilty that she and Helen hadn't seen much of their friends and neighbours recently.

" You can come with me John. You're our guest now," Rose commanded, her tiny hand taking his. Nikki's grin threatened to split her face in two as she followed up behind the other two. As John crossed the threshold and entered the hallway, intense feelings of nostalgia overtook him as if he were coming home so he was easy to lead. Helen's carrying voice from the kitchen area added to this kaleidoscope of memories which seeped in from the warm colours which had once helped comfort him when he was at his lowest ebb. Apart from the brief glimpse od Rose's bedroom, the flat was just has he remembered, especially when he arrived at the living room.

"Take the weight off your feet while I bring you a mug of tea," Helen called out cheerily."I take it you've met Rose."

Nikki laughed heartily while Rose innocently took her place. In came Helen, complete with a tray with three mugs of tea and a glass of orange with a madly coloured and shaped plastic straw.

"This feels like a second home to me," John said, his emotions overflowing. Even the tea he was drinking tasted better than anyone else's.

"And what's the reason John?" put in Rose, her curiosity aroused. She'd heard both her mothers talk fondly of the good old days, fighting legal battles in court but she'd never grasped the details.

"After I got out of prison, I still had a criminal record for taking out the man who threatened Trisha's life, you know, the blond-haired woman you played hopscotch with the other day. I had to go back to court to get my record clean. John was one of the judges who wiped my record clean. The three of us started to become friends after that as we discovered we had a lot in common," Nikki led off briskly with evident pleasure in recalling their shared past.

"I'd got intensely interested in your mother's first trial but I couldn't get my hands on it and the way it was run was totally unfair. You know how it is when something grabs your interest," John said, looking directly into Rose's eyes. The little girl nodded her head as this kind, interesting man made everything crystal clear and Nikki and Helen smiled approvingly at the way that John and Rose were on the same wavelength.

"A number of court trials came up and your mother and her friends were plunged into the thick of it and that brought us closer," continued John.

"Sometimes things happen to people. It happened in my case. I hadn't the faintest idea of the trouble we got into when I set out to pick up Trisha from the club we ran," Nikki added soothingly.

"They all made splendid witnesses in court and spoke their minds either defending themselves or standing up for others," John added, deliberately selecting his phrases carefully so as not to let jargon take over.

"But how did they all end up in trouble? Aren't the courts going to keep bothering them?" queried Rose who was worried that the dangers her mummies and friends had been exposed to hadn't gone away. John stepped forward, seeing his friends exchange worried glances.

"It's not courts who cause trouble, governments do that. There's a rule that once a court has says that someone's innocent, there's an end to it. Not only that but bullies hate looking foolish in public. you might have noticed that on the school playground," John said in reassuring tones which did the trick much to Nikki and Helen's relief. They gave him full marks in thinking himself into the world of a child where unnaccountable dangers could burst in out of nowhere and noone's explaining. A broad relieved smile of understanding spread across Rose's face.

"Don't worry mums, I know you both. Trisha and Sally-Anne are good fun and so are you, Joihn so the rest of your friends must be like of you could never do anything that's really wrong." The others smiled warmly and gratefully as the little girl flipped her way through her sequence of logic.

"I think that dinner's nearly ready," Helen announced cheerily which reminded the others of the spicy aroma that had been wafting their way. John grinned broadly at the prospect of sitting down to dinner surrounded by warmly affectionate female company.

"I'd guess from your imagination that you must be outstanding at English and Art," John said an hour or so later to Rose as he sat back in his armchair and slowly digested the meal.

"I'm OK at grammar and spelling as I need them to write stories which I really enjoy. I really get carried away when I'm writing. same as when I'm painting. My teacher likes what I do," Rose said, becoming very animated. She knew that this man understood her perfectly and she didn't need to explain her thoughts..

"And what about maths?"John asked without thinking. Immediately, all the light went out of Rose's expression and her forlorn expression got to John's sympathies while he waited for his friend to explain her problems.

"I keep trying my best but it's all about rules which make no sense," she complained."Mum got angry when she heard what was going on and complained about the maths teacher being horrible to me. He's OK now but I'm still struggling."

John didn't know what to say. He knew that Rose would see through vague platitudes. Nikki and Helen sensed a possible answer but were far too shy to make a move.

"What were you good at when you were at school John?" Rose asked, sensing a way out.

"Now you're talking," chuckled John as he sought out long neglected memories from his past." It was all a long ago. My adoptrive father taught me to question everything and never accept anything because someone says so and that's stuck with me. I was

particularly good at english, both written and spoken so that meant that I was passably fair at maths and science. Regrettably, I didn't take to art as I wasn't as creative as you."

"Is that what you need to be a judge?" pursued Rose, really interested in what this man had to say while Nikki and Helen listened sensed that John was getting somewhere.

"In my own way," grinned John to general laughter."You have barristers who are there to take sides and are paid to argue their side but I can't resist asking questions when no one else is dfoing it. You know how it is,Rose. You can't and shouldn't suppress that instinct to find out what's true and what are lies. In a way, my job is mathmatical but not completely so.I have to, as it were, know what the rules are but know where the gaps are to get justice."

As John spoke slowly and deliberately, Rose felt more tense and nervous at the same time that she felt that this man may be the answer to her problems. Go on, you've nothing, a voice whispered in her ear.

"This sounds kind of cheeky but I'm really nervous asking but I so want you to help me with my maths," she asked in a rush of words, her eyes downcast and reaching out for Helen's hand to cling onto. She felt like falling through the floor and couldn't believe her nerve in asking this of the judge. She wouldn't have if he wasn't so human.

"That's quite a task you've set me Rose," John said in his kindest tones. He'd hesitated a lot less than he might have expected faced with such an open ended request."You'll forgive me as I'm rusty. I haven't done this since I used to help my grown up daughter Charlie through her exams."

"Yes John," Rose murmured meekly. She could sense him weighing the matter as her mothers always did.

"If you're really serious about this, I need to see any homework or exercise books you have and we'll see where we go from there."

"That's really good of you, very kind. If you don't mind, mums, can John and I go to my bedroom. I'm really shy if you asre looking on," she said very meekly. Inside, she felt as if the moment of truth had arrived and she wanted to face it privately. Nikki and Helen understood it. So it was that the two of them disappeared into Rose's bedroom and only their two contrasting voices could be heard.

"What'll be do now?" Nikki asked Helen as they were somehow bereft of purpose.

""We'll leave them to it. John must know what he's doing," Helen answered. Everything now was in the lap of the gods.

An hour later after the two women had preiodically busied themselves, Rose suddenly burst back into the living room, a big grin over her face.

"I've got it, I've got it. It's so easy," she announced, dancing atround and pirouetting on the tips of her toes. John followed, blinking his eyes with a satisfied expression on his face. Somehow, he'd been able to get past the little girl's mental block where she got to understand it her way and not anyone else's. It was the only way she could understand it.

"Is this the first class out of many? Helen and I figured that you might need to come round regularly," Helen ventured cautiously, unfolding the scenario that she had expected and wondering if John could have the time and effort to give of himself such a committment.

"That's not needed. John's just taught me his way of understanding it, not anyone else's. Just wait this hits my enemies at school and the teacher," she said gleefully, her green eyes sparkling in the sun.

"And there we were John, thinking that you'd advise Rose to stick to the straight and narrow," Nikki observed with languid dry wit and a sparkle in her eyes.

"Impossible," John grinned. The others all laughed while the sublight smiled in on them through the window and the day passed on effortlessly with no thought of time.

As the evening drew in, Rose put the television on, choosing a channel at random and the Prime Minister's face filled the screen. To the little girl's ears his voice was impressively grave and serious voice but the words weren't making any sense so she turned to the others.

"What's he saying? Is this grown up talk that children can't understand?" she asked in bewilderment.

"You're not missing anything as the man can't tell the truth to save his life. Words pour out like a smokescreen so you don't see through him darling," Nikki said is her warmest, comfoerting voice.

"He looks kind of frightened," Rose said, squinting hard at the screen.

"He's scared of losing the next election so he and his gang can't go on strutting around, puffing himself up self-importantly," John added, putting on an exaggeratedly stern expression and distorting the shape of his body."That's what he's doing." This caused Rose to roll around with an attack of the giggles.

The news programme moved on and suddenly Neil Hauighton's face filled the screen.

"My god, it's him," exclaimed John in disgust as the man droned on about the need for increased security and surveillance in the war on terror. The man's egoism and dishonesty battled in John's mind for what he loathed most about him.

"You really dislike him John," said Rose.

"I've met him. He sounds like a dragon but deep down, he's too cowardly to be one. You don't get cowardly dragons, do you. As a government minister, he uses his position to bully the weak and defenceless by getting others to do his dirty work for him. He once tried to make a law so he could tell judges what to do and not make up our own minds so I got my friends to refuse to work for the day and dress in our red robes to display our protest right where he works. He tried to drive past me into his car park only I stopped him and told him what I thought of him. He was afraid of me and that's how I know what he is like," explained John carefully, hoping he'd explained things so a child could understand. Her wide open eyes showed that she drank in everything he said.

"And we were part of the crowd with Trisha and Sally-Anne and others. John was splendidly defiant," exclaimed Helwen gleefully.

Rose's face was a picture of astonishment mixed with sheer joy. Her mummies hadn't told her of this. The idea of grownups behaving badly in a good cause was a lesson in life that she would learn to treasure.

An hour or so later, Rose became tired out and sleepy after such a stimulating day. Regretfully, John had to take his leave which caused Rose's face to fall. She didn't like goodbyes as she so loved people around her.

"Are you coming back John? We've really enjoyed it or at least I have," Rose asked, drolly adopting him over her mummies. This was the best that Nikki and Helen could expect of the visit as deep down, they'd been a little worried by the prospect of the visit. John had handled the situation in impeccable style and had found time to chat to them both after the maths lesson. From his point of view, he felt a marvellous sense of peace in being temporarily brought into this family warmed by the solid love and committment between these two women that had obviously caused their daughter to be so remarkably centred.

"As your friend and your mothers' friends, I certainly will. I'll make time for it," John assured her, a feeling of great satisfaction spreadfing through his system..


	23. Chapter 23

As John slipped on his favourite dark jacket, he felt himself a little dizzy at having just taken a decisive step in getting his life in order in his visit to Nikki and Helen the day before. What pleased him most was that Rose Stewart-Wade had become a close friend in short order just as he had been with her two mothers while avoiding the complications as to her paternity as he'd discovered that his worries had no basis in fact. He admired the way that Nikki and Helen cared for their daughter and had given her remarkable certyainty while he was both their humble assistant and staunch friend to them all.

The next task he had in hand had been arranged before yesterday's visit as an act of faith and that was to sort out his relationship with Jo Mills on a proper footing. She'd appeared periodically before him in court and they'd interacted with smooth professionalism as they'd long been accustomed to. The trouble was that, at the end of the day in court, she went her way homewards and he headed off to the judges' digs and then onwards to whatever purpose came to mind.

"You want to meet me?" Jo had said in an astonished tone of voice followed by a wary look as he asked her in the foyer at close of business for the day . Old habits died hard." You know very well that things have drastically changed between us for a number of years."

"I know that. It's just that I feel we've been distant and I want to become proper friends but no more than I'd like the same for Nikki and Helen. I've let far too much slip these last few years."

"You know that Jane Lancaster is a permanent part of my life," Jo had said deliberately to make her meaning quite clear.

"I have no problem with that. I'm due to meet Nikki and Helen this Saturday as I've been guilty of keeping my distance from them for no good reason and they've agreed," John had said with deliberate precision. Secretly, he wondered if his system was up to such radical changes in short order but he was content to bluff his own doubts by aiming to jump into the deep end and not thinki too much.

"Well, just as you know what you're letting yourself in for," Jo conceded carefully.

Before he'd broached the matter, he'd wondered where to meet. He sneakingly suspected that Jo might not now be comfortable going to any of the various eating and drinking places they used to frequent which had jumped into his mind and certainly not if Jane were with her. Until he'd come to take a balcony seat view of this world , he'd never thought of them as straight. The only other suitable place was Jo's house. This rang initial warnming bells as it had been the scene of a number of sexual assignations in the past but now was different.

"Oh hell," John had mentally sworn to himself in this microsecond as he'd felt the issue was still in the balence. ,"Why not ask Jo what she prefers and not try to second guess her?"

"So where do we meet? I leave it entirely up to you," he finally opted to say and Jo volunteered her house as neutral territory It was John's turn to wonder how neutral this would be when his own past associations with the house would make their presence inevitably felt but he went along with the suggestion.

As his thoughts whirled around in his head, he realised that the door was being answered by a fresh-faced woman with long blonde hair which caught John's automatic thought processes which second thought caused him to backpedal them.

"Hi, I'm John Deed. You must be Jane," he found himself saying formally as instincts prompted him to find the right words, hoping that he didn't come over as too distracted.

"Got it in one. I've heard a lot about you from Jo over the years. She told me about the scrapes you've got into for a good cause always yet you've somehow balenced on the high wire," Jane answered cheerily.

This succinct summary of John's life made him warm to this woman so much that, when Jo emerged from the kitchen,. he was beginning to think that the best person won Jo's heart. He knew that he'd had his chances with Jo but he'd blowqn them all thanks to his compulsive womanising.

"So where do you work Jane if you don't mind me asking?" he asked hospitably enough.

"I'm a nurse at st. Mary's Hospital. For my sins, I recently took over as local RCN rep as well."

"RCN?" queried John in puzzlement.

"Royal College of Nurses," explained Jane."We can't go on strike like unions can and we probably wouldn't because of the patient's welfare. I'm having my hands full of problems with arrogant junior consultants who treat us like servants. I'm also having problems as nurses these days are being put upon as there's simply too much work."

John'e eyes sparkled and he smiled at this information. This was another woman after his heart and he noticed out of the corner of his eye a little smile at the corners of Jo's lips. He also couldn't help noticing that Jane looked a little tired.

"I admit knowing little of the NHS but I understand that nurses work hard. How do you manage to work as a representative on top of this?" John asked. Jane appreciated this man's kindly interest and intelligent question.

"I get time off to do my repping work thanks to Karen Betts who's my ward sister. I know her outside work as she goes to Chix night club with Jo and I. While she's not one for favouritism, she's fair on me so I don't get pressure and hassle from her. However, I get a little guilty at being on the ward even if I'm spending my time the madness somehow works out in the end." John nodded appreciatively at the final sentiment in particularly- he could relate to it.

"Want a drink, you two?" Jo asked politely. Her manner indicated that this meeting had started well and the dinne4r was nicely simmering away on its own and would be ready in a little while.

"Coffee, if you please," murmured John politely.

"The usual glass of white wine for me," Jane answered and so Jo filled up her glass, another for herself and temporarily disappeared into the kitchen for John's drink.

Pretty soon, they were gathered together in the living room where the initial moment of feeling their way had been dispersed. It wasn't the drinks or so Jane judged even though the drink went slightly to her head.

"You know, I figured ouit that you two should get back to being friends in a way that won't do anyone any harm. I know this as I've been in relationship triangles in the past and someone always gets hurt," Jane said in an easy, lackadaisical manner as this home truth caused a ripple to run round the room.

"You know, I thought you took it well that John Deed was coming round for dinner," commented Jo in mild surprise.

"I knew there's nothing for me to worry about any more than you should Jo,"Jane said softly, omitting her customary endearment. Behind her outward confidence, she hadn't been all that certain when the moment of arrival was impending.

"So that leaves me to declare myself. I ha[ppen to be well adjusted psychically speaking as I had a thoroughly charming time yesterday meeting Nikki ande Helen after a long absence and came across their remarkable daughter Rose," John said with unafraid confidence.

"We've recently childminded for Rose. She's certainly a live wire," Jo said in a more animated manner.

"You too?" John said in astonishment and then a broad grin swpread across his face at this coincidence of events. Jane could vaguely sense how this man would be attractive to a straight woman and his obvious intelligence didn't harm any.

"Well that give us something more in common, you guys," Jane said cheerily.

This woman was definitely growing on John as she had poise and charm while any notion of complex entwinements of sexual attraction stayed firmly on the back burner. He glanced at Jo who seemed cool and calm and everything seemed fine and so he rexaxed into this meeting of minds.

Backstage, matters for Jo had been a little bit different. First thing in the morning, she'd changed her outfit a couple of times until Jane placed her hands on her shoulders. To Jane, John was just a guy, all right someone who was pretty special apart from their long on off affair down the years. She was intending to take him as he was.

"What's wrong babes?" she asked, flicking her own hair off her shoulders and looking her in the eye. Jo was silent for a little while and Jane didn't press her as she knew it was counter-productive. Only the feel of her arms around her partner could get Jo to conjure the words out of her confusion.

"I'm nervous about John coming into our space," Jo finally said.

"I understand. This obviously means more for you than me as he's just a guy to me that I've never how sensitive id John?" the blond-haired woman asked in easy tones.

"As far as I can tell, he's a lot better than he used to be," Jo finally confessed.

"So don't forget that John may feel the same as take it as it comes and take it easy," Jane said, speaking her philosophy of life. As she cuddled her partrner close, she could feel the tension in her body start to dissipate as she looked over her shoulder.

Dinner was serrved and John took care not to let a note of nostalgia for times past to enter his voice as he ate the last of the ice cream with scalloped shaped wafer. He smiled round approvingly at life in general and realised that he'd slowly but surely surmounted the emotional trough of few months ago. It was then that he needed to go to the toilet.

"Excuse me, can I borrow your toilet, " he politely asked permission of the two women after which he exited from the room.

Under the table, Jane squeezed Jo's hand as she sensed the other woman tense up straightaway. She pictured Jo's mind imagining their cosy bedroom with makeup and perfume on the dressing tables, their dresses hanging in the built in wardrobes. Feverishly, Jo's mind was pictured zeroing in on the two bedside units and the strapons concealed inside the drawers like some guilty secret that, at heart, neither woman was guilty about. Both women's memories went back to the heat and darkness of Friday evening when they had writhed together in the ecstacy of sexual passion and the delicious feelings of Jo thrusting inside the fair haired woman whose legs were wide open to receive her and wrapped round Jo and their breathless sounds of mingled female desires. These images of beauty jarred against Jo's perceived images of John's stern disapproval. This was not right, Jo mumbled to herself as she started shaking her head.

"Darling just relax," Jane urged, keeping her voice low and distinct."All John knows about us is that we're an item and that you're happy as he is a considerate guy and he knows that you've moved on. I'm sure he doesn't want to know the details, least of all what we do between the sheets."

"You're right darling. I've been silly. We should act and feel normal, "Jo smiled as she kissed her lover's cheek.

The gentle touch, the soft words and clear reasoning had had its effect. Jo exhaled her pent-up breath and turned and smiled at her clear-headed lover and squeezed her lover's hand back gratefully. John noticed this last gesture as he was walking down the staircase. His first thought was that he was glad that someone was taking care of Jo. He remembered from long experience of Jo that she wasn't as relaxed as she was trying to make others believe and it was beyond his powers to do much about it.

"So what else are you doing, these days John?" Jo asked as she turned her head to John after he'd sat down. This was a convenient distraction from her own thoughts which were trying to settle down to normality.

"Not so badly. I see quite a bit of Kristine Thorne. You'll remember her as the blind lecturer at the University of London that we first met at the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM as a red hot campaigner on prison reform. It's not exactly a steady relationship as she comes and goes as much as I do."

Jo remembered Kristine all right. She hadn't got on well with her at their first meeting and time hadn't improved matters, not that she'd seen much of her in recent years. Jane certainly remembered Kristine very well for a very different reason. Years ago, when she'd been single and unnattached, she'd been her occasional sexual partner. She'd also been strikingly different, stimulating company and hot stuff between the sheets. Jane smiled nostalgicaqlly to herself for a past era and figured out that this budding semi-relationship was John's lookout and she should keep her mouth shut.

"I admit I don't know Kristine that well. However, if you ever find a woman who holds your attention on a permanent basis, then she's got something."

This ambiguous remark was the prompt for John to start talking about Kristine at some length as this came off the top of his mind. As his two friends listened patiently to him, John reflected how strange it was that he could now talk to Jo about another woman's attractions and not to cause her any upset. He'd come a long way when he'd admitted out of nowhere that he's slept with the femal psychologist who he'd engaged to try and secure a monogomanous relationship with Jo Mills. Time had moved on as the clock in the living room ticked out the time and he still wasn't entirely sure where he was heading.


	24. Chapter 24

Karen was musing or so Beth's sharp analysis told her as she came out of the kitchen. There she sat at their polished dining room table, head in profile, elbows resting on the table, her chin cupped by her hands and staring into outer space after they'd tidied up after dinner. The dark-haired woman had washed her hands after she'd given the kitchen the once over and so she doubled round and gently placed her damp hands on her partner's shoulders. She knew that this wasn't her comedown after the joys of the weekend but more was at stake.

"What's up darling? I can tell there's something troubling you," she asked gently.

Karen's eyes started to come back into focus away from her nebulous dark worries which contrasted with the golden haze out of the window. She reached her partner's slim right hand and squeezed it fondly.

"I'm getting confused about work. I sometimes wonder if I've bitten off more than I can chew with my new job. I'm no longer clear who's my enemy and who's not," Karen said slowly and uncertainly."That sounds like a load of crap, doesn't it," she added shamefacedly.

"Are you ready to talk or do ytou want to think some more about it?" Beth asked gently. She knew that things had been building up inside her partner and was it an illusion but she could see stress lines on her face that hadn't been there before? She'd got to know that Karen sometimes didn't find it easy to talk and pushing her was not moral and was counter productive. The time and place had to be right for her. For her part, Karen was immensely glad that her partner was generously giving her a free choice.

"I want to talk but I'm not ready. When I'm ready, I really want to bounce some ideas off you," Karen said softly. If Beth hadn't already been persauaded by logic, the look in those big blue eyes would have melted her anyway. She came up behind the blond-haired woman, kissed her lightly on the top of her head and reached out for some sofrt music to round off their jagged edges.

The next day, a series of events happened which firmed up Karen's ideas into tangible shape. As soon as she got to her work station, her fury rose when she read the message that, once again, her duty roster had been buggered up as one of her nurses was to be detached to Keller Ward. This wasn't the first time it had happened as two weeks ago, she'd moaned under her breath but put up with the situation, rejigged the schedule, apologised handsomely to the nursesand pulled in a bit of the extra work herself. That was the only way that Jane as RCN rep very reluctantly agreed to the deal but made it clear that she wasn't going to be so soft in future.

"What the hell's happened this time?" she swore to herself as her job description had glowingly described how she was empowered, as unit manager, to organise things accoirding to her ideas. She was on the point of phoning Chrissie Williams as her first instincts were bluntened by the knowledge that her friend and mentor wouldn't do the dirty on her.

"Hi Karen, it's Chrissie. I know you were going to phone me to ask what the hell's happened but I thought I'd be the first to tell you what's really going on. One of my nurses has jacked in her job without notice and another two have gone short term sick. I've been on to management about it and some bright spark came up with the notion of 'sharing the pain.' "

"The answer's obvious. We need a bank nurse to cover the resignation at the very least, possibly a second as well. I know because that's how I first started here years ago," a very overheated Karen replied rapidly, becoming highly conscious of Jane's questioning expression as her sharp ears picked up the sounds of trouble in the wind.

"Times are changing Karen," explained her friend patiently, conscious that her subtleties had been overlooked."You can't have forgotten the talk we had about managing our staff?"

The blond-haired woman remembered all too vividly. She'd been put out in getting a short notice message to be hauled away from her tasks to attend with all the other sisters a meeting in an impossibly sterile room, sit on hard-edged chairs and hear this smart-suited young men who was wet behind the ears drone on about nothing in particular. The stream of syllables slung together urged them all how to think, act and behave as managers to be empowered with blue sky thinking to make their choices. The language was unpleasantly reminiscent of her one time boss, Neil Grayling when she was wing governor. The phrase 'unit manager' grated on her in particular.

"When I became ward sister, I didn't think that death by boredom was part of the job description, snorted Karen derisively.

"You have to learn to read between the lines," explained her friend as her patience ran out on her."What that devious man was getting at was that we can no longer automatically get bank nurses as backup if things go wrong but we're responsible for managing staff shortages, not them. Because we scraped through the problem two weeks back, we're expected to get them out of the mire as a regular thing and they get Brownie points for saving their budgets for them.".

"Sod this for a game of soldiers," snapped Karen. What infuriated her was that, once again, sopme smooth talking man had taken her for a ride and she hadn't spotted it."we need help and fast."

"I've already had an argument with hyim and I haven't shifted him. Just how much time are we prepared to spend to hammer away at him while we've got wards to run?" pressed Chrissie back at Karen. This made Karen feel highly uncomfortable and hesitate as contradictory arguments, all very valid, pressed for her allegiance.

"So what do I tell the nurses?" Karen said faintly.

"What other option have we got?" Chrissie parried, feeling lousy about the situation.

Karen paused for a very long time while her thoughts and emotions were churning around. This is shit, ashe thought. Out of the corner of her eye, she senses that half the conversation was being overheard and the rest being deduced.

"OK, this is my deal. You should know that news is flying fast around my ward. We'll cover for the sickness if it is no more than a daqy or two but we won't cover for the resignation. No matter how you swap the staff, the good running of wards will suffer pretty quickly. Once your two nurses are back at work, we need a bank nurse to cover us. We both go down and tell this manager guy, what's his name that we're not miracle workers and we kick up a stink. Got it Chrissie?" The woman on the other end of the phone paled before this verbal forcefulnesws and she could see how Karen might act as a prison governor. What she couldn't do, the two of them might crack the problem.

"All right you guys," Karen said in her strong commanding voice having walked halfway down the ward so everyone could hear her."I've decided that we're lending out a nurse to Keller Ward where two nurses have gone sick and another has handed in her notice. It's the least we can dop to help. After the two are back at work me and Chrissie Williams will talk to management to lay hold of a bank nurse to cover for however long it takes to replace the third nurse. "

"This isn't good enough Karen,.For a start, you don't know what the nurses have gone sick with, a bad cold, broken leg, bronchitis cholera or black death and for how long. For another, we've always had a bank nurse to cover us when Chrissie Williams was sister," interjected a furious Jane who also felt that she had a position to uphold.

"It was Chrissie Williams on Keller Ward that I was speaking to. She'd already tried that one and didn't get very far," shot back Karen in precise level tones and glaring at her friend. While she was hyper-conscious of her own divided loyalties, Jane was beginning to regret shooting her mouth off so readily.

"I'm not getting at you personally, Karen. If I appeared to, I regret it. The problem is that if we give an inch, they'll take a mile and I'm not talking about you or Chrissie," an embarrassed Jane answered, doing her best to dig herself out of a hole.

"No offence taken Jane but I get your point. All I'm asking is to give it a day for us to muck in and I'll talk to Chrissie first thing tomorrow. I'll check out the situation further and I'll see what mood I'm in as to how long this will drag on for," Karen answered as the slow burning anger rankled because of the position she'd been landed in. It crossed her mind that management hadn't been bothered by the time taken by the lecture she, Chrissie and the other nurses had been subjected to. Jane caught the meaning look in Karen's eye and her raised eyebrows.

"All right, we'll muck in but under duress," she said, judging the mood and was rewarded by a murmur of general agreement.

Suddenly, a well known voice called out sharply from behind Karen's back to break the silence. This was the last thing she needed, groaned Karen to herself.

"What the hell is going on? A town hall meeting? I've got a heart transplant operation booked so why is everyone still gathered around?"

"We've had it dumped on us that we'll be obne nurse light today, Jac Naylor, so my duty roster is buggered up. You might not care a toss but you would be if you were one scrub nurse short," Karen stormed back at Jac with considerable energy.

For a full minute, there was dead suilence. Karen didn't often lose her temper and the nurses gathered the strain she was under. For the first time in her career, Jac realised that the other woman was equally stressed and angry and she decided to back off gently.

"So can you get me a couple of scrub nurses? she said in flat, level tones and a neutral ezxpression on her face.

"Give me a couple of minutes and I'll sort you out while I'm changing the rota," Karen said quietly and she turned to the workstation where she printed off a duty roster.

"I'll go to Keller ward if you want," Jane volunteered.

"Thanks for the offer but Jac Naylor will need your experience in theatre as one of the scrub nurses. This is the new duty roster," Karen pronounced after she'd scrawled the changed duties and marked out the nurse to be detached to Keller."Is everyone happy now?"

"What about the second scrub nurse?" enquired Jac.

"That's me. I'm sure you'll all cope for an hour or two without me to hold your hand. My admin work's going on the back burner but, hey that's life. We get the essentials done. It's about time the two of us see what the other can do," Karen replied with forceful purpose which drew everyone in after her.

"Sounds fine by me," Jac said with as much respect as she dared let into her voice. She'd been mildly surprised and pleased to be cut a good deal and this time, she waited politely for her two helpmates to be ready without cracking the whip to make a move.

In late afternoon, Beth was rattling out the final paragraphs on her computer on her theatre review before scanning it rapidly and knocking it into final shape. She'd just come back from the matinee performance in one of the row of theatres along Shaftesbury Avenue and chatted to the producer and some of the friendly actors in the cast after the show. She'd enjoyed the experience on a nice sunny day and this was the better part of her role as a reporter on the Independent. Nevertheless, she felt exiled from her true calling in life which was the political section to where she'd had been a featured journalist. Her pride and joy was her feature on Nikki Wade's expose of conditions in Larkhall Prison and when she'd gone on to cover a particularly controversial Howard League of Penal Reform, the article had been spiked and she'd been shunted sideways. However, while she had liked the old school socialists in that department, she had hated the up and coming opportunists who couldn't get it through her head the nature of her sexual preferences as it were such a big deal. She bumped into one ot two of her old friends in the corridors but that was as much contact as she had with that way of life. Suddenly, her mobile bleeped and a message flashed on her mobile screen- Back late knackered but good day- luv K xx. Beth smiled to herself. This was a good sign and maybe Karen was ready to talk. She brushed back a lock of dark hair which crept over her cheekbone as part of her elegant bob cut and carried on working.

"Not bad eh? Everything went pretty smoothly," Jac Naylor pronounced with satisfaction as she, Karen and Jane led the way back to the ward with rapid strides down the endless corridor. She had to admit that she felt confident and her assistants were up to scratch. She'd held back for a moment while Karen had fished her mobile out of her pocket and sent off a quick text but figured out that this was private business and not her concern.

"You do blow your trumpet but you know what you're doing. That's what matters," a weary but satisfied Karen answered. Her pager had been silent all this time so all was well while she'd been away from her ward. Jac gave way to a slight smile as Karen was only telling the truth.

"For a couple of lesbians, I could have had worse help than you gave me," she said in not unfriendly tones. The two other sharp-witted women took this as words of praise.

"Do we have the makings of an armistice?" pursued Karen as they crossed the central spur of St. Mary's hospital. She was reevaluating just who her enemies were.

"So long as I get cooperation and no smart alec backchat," Jac said a little waspishly.

"That's fine so long as you knock off the homophobic cracks and digs about unions," Karen retorted before venturing a slight hint."We've both got bigger fish to fry in getting along with our jobs."

"Then we've got an agreement," Jac answered, a faint flicker of her smile passing her lips before she dived down another corridor.

"You get your break Jane while I get back to the ward and see everything's OK," Karen said with a warm smile on her face. She'd felt comfortable as their working together in a common cause had smoothed over their earlier conflict.

"I'll take your order so long as you get yourself a break later on. You're not quite Superwoman," Jane grinned as they came up to the canteen and the temporary parting of the ways.

Beth got herself home first but wasn't feeling too hungry so she sat down and took it easy in the peace and quiet of their flat. She stuck on her favourite cool jazz album and let the rhythms ease out the pressures of a day's work. Suddenly, another text winged its way through the wavelengths and into her mobile. -Finishing work 6. Fancy fish and chips tonight. Will get them if u want. OK? K xx- The idea seemed suddenly irresistable to Beth as a let go moment in their life. She texted back -Yippee. Love it. B xx- as quickly as he fingers could type. She normally took care of what she ate and studied her calorie intake but she loved Karen's sudden impulses to do something different.

"Here I am darling," called out Karen through the door fiddling with her key as she managed a carrier bag full of goodies, wrapped up in white paper. Beth laid out two plates as the golden chips and deep fried cod tumbled out of the paper. A bottle of chilled wine lay on the side with two glasses. For the first time, Beth caught a good look at her partner. The blond haired woman looked tired but the stress lines that had marked her face had faded and her grin and sparkling blue eyes were irresistable.

"Thank God, no washing up. That's the best part of it," Karen exclaimed with satisfaction as she threw the scrunched up papers into the wastebin and topped up the wine glasses."I suppose you want me to carry on the conversation where we left off last night," she added as she put her feet up on the table.

"Of course I do darling. Your problems are mine and vice versa," Beth said softly and Karen turned and gave her a big kiss for that. Beth grinned at the faint taste of greasy chips on her lover's lips.

"The answer's simple," Karen continued blithely as she tossed off half a glassful of wine."I'm up against the same load of wankers I was up against at Larkhall Prison but Jac Naylor isn't the problem?"

"She isn't?" questioned a wide eyed Beth. She had never met the woman but she struck her as sheer poison and enough trouble for anyone.

"She's a bitchg but at least she's a professional bitch and Jane and I worked as scrub nurses and proved our worth to her and she saw what we can do. We made an armistice on equal terms. The real enemies are the suits and they're bullshitters which Jac Naylor isn't," commenced Karen as she explained lucidly the office politics in the National Health Service as she saw it. like a good reporter, Beth drank it all in and opened her ears and eyes. Her only regret as she admired her partner's durability in standing up incorruptibly to these insidious pressures was that she wouldn't get the opportunity to report on this any more than the situation she was stuck in.


	25. Chapter 25

Trisha was working out with Sally-Anne how to transform the vision of a Chix contribution to London Pride into practical details in the quiet seclusion of their office.

"You really think you can handle driving the float from the depot and all around London?" queried the fair-haired woman in the early morning pale coloured chill, an atmosphere which didn't encourage positive enthusiasm.

Sally-Anne balenced her biro meditatively between her fingers and brushed her hair out off her forehead with her left hand. These actions help her clinch the matter in her mind.

"The driving licence just about allows me to drive it thanks to my time in the police force. They wanted specialist drivers and, hey I volunteered for a short spell before I got put back on the beat," she laugher ironically at one or two of the useful skills she'd picked up as well as horrendously bad personal experiences which had lost her her job.

Both women looked dreamily into an uncertain distance as they imagined all their friends within the flamboyant carnival atmosphere of a Pride parade with ever present percussive rhythms and whistles. They were going to have to dress up more than was their habit.

"Why don't we use our website to advertise for women to join our float?" Sally Anne asked in a meditative turn of voice as ideas floated around them to be drawn out of the ether to be vocalised.

"I'll get onto that. We'll also see how everyone feels on Saturday night when the gang come on Saturday night except George and Alice who'll childmind for Helen and Nikki," Trisha said calmly. She had this faith that their friends would rise to the occasion and bond with the float that would proudly carry the name of the club for all to see and this wasn't some wishful fantasy of the way she'd love to live her life but couldn't. This really was being out and proud in its most tangible form.

At that moment, the phone rang and trisha took the call. Her businesslike composure of her face and voice dissolved into irrepressible joy and thankfulness. An inquisiive Sally-Anne gathered that the Pride organisers were discussing business with her and it was good news.

"We're going to be third float in the procession, Sally and guess what, she apologised for not putting us at the front. She'd given her word to the other two float organisers. She said we'd got this for our good reputation for the long years we'd created a nice mellow scene where women have a good night out and tend to end up happily ever after. Her words, not mine," Trisha exclaimed excitedly after she'd finished the call.

This warm compliment made Sally-Anne feel warm inside. She knew that their club catered for a nice mix of women, retaining a good number of their old friends who'd started with them plus the younger women who'd assimilated the atmosphere. They got happily inebriated and romantic as opposed to aggressively drunk and sick. They'd plotted out a steady course and tended to avoid short term trends.

"That's really lovely of them to sday that. I feel kind of shy when other people tell you that you've done well," Sally-Anne answered glowing all over despite her self-consciousness.

"You're a little like Nikki when you talk that way. She was always shy of accepting a compliment," Trisha said fondly, causing a smile of recognition to pass between them before getting back to business."We've worked hard for this and this honour is ideal for us. I'm glad we're number two or three as I'd sooner follow someone else so we're sure of making the right moves as we're so new to actually putting on a performance."

"All this feels like our fantasy, unreal in the cold light of dawn except for our faith in this project."

"Don't worry, we and our friends will make this happen," pronounced Trisha confidently and it was a sign of fate that a shaft of sunlight caused by the pale colours in the office to warm up and cast a gentle glow in their world.

In Helen's office, idle tongues always had something to speculate about or, more accurately, pass off their speculations as the latest news which only they were privy to. The office was, with exceptions, all-female and straight and it suffered from this disproportionate weighting. true, they conceded, Helen kept a silver framed photograph of a smiling Nikki wearing a pin-striped dark jacket and shirt complete with a leafy twig suspended in the right hand corner and bright sunshine casting a general glow. Nevertheless, envious eyes saw the way that Helen laugh and joke with the man who seemed to come alive whenever she engaged him in conversation. There must be something in it as otherwise, the man kept himself to himself. True, Helen talked from time to time about Nikki and family matters but maybe this was camouflage. You never knew what women like her were like aqnd what they got up to. Of course, when Ms Stewart came into the room, they kept their heads down and got on with their work.

As soon as Helen had returned to work after her maternity leave, she had noticed that there had been staff moves while she'd been away. She'd talked to Tony in confidence on her first day who primed him about the rumour factory sounding off about the scary lesbian who was going to take over the show. That was quite enough warning to her so she ran a critical eye over the office. She noted that, except for Tony, it was all female which faced her with an amusing conundrum. it was ironic that, while she'd been a lesbian for a good many years, this didn't make her averse to the company of men despite laxy assumptions to the opposite. What engaged her interest was a sense of integrity and loyalty combined with a fun loving approach to life and, most of all, a free spirit.

One glance at Jo Watts told her that she regarded herself as the office senior and was no friend of hers with nothing in common. her dark neatly permed hair belonged to a stuffy era several decades back as was her sensible knee-length skirt. Even when smiling, her expression remained tight and repressed. Even the way she spoke was as buttoned up as her blouse. The way Helen strolled in wearing tight trousers and the top two shirt buttons undone and bright red lipstick meant that she'd committed the mortal sin of being attractive as well as being a lesbian. This did not bode well for future relationships as female jealousy made for a potent poison cocktail with hatred of the unconvwentional. Another one like Bodybag, Helen sighed to herself except that this one avoided sticking her head openly above the parapet. Still, Helen reckoned she could manage this section as she'd come across tougher situations than this as she settled down to a long war of attrition.

It was on Friday that she joked and laughed with Tony one time too many even though she tried to also socialise with the others when she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of Jo Watts's face set in a mask of disapproval. This was it, Helen resolved, take the one chance to have it out in private wioth this woman or bitterly regret letting the moment 'd learnt this lesson, she remembereed in a flash, when for the first time she'd faced out her old boss Mr Stubberfield years ago at Larkhall Prison.#

"Might I have a private word with you Jo?" Helen asked with a touch of steel in her voice.

"I can't think why that might be needed Helen. I have my work to get on with,"the other woman replied in an oily fashion.

"You wait and find out. I'll keep it quick," retorted Hen in firm tones and a sideways nod of her head. Once inside her office, Helen lost no time in cutting to the chase but she was dismayed as jo watts started talking interminably in a particularly irritating tone of offended virtue. "I'm denying any responsibility that I might have thought that you'd have any issues with you in any way. Didn't I say the other day to Louise about how this office is a happy place to work. Of course, you may have been somewhere else when I said it..." Oh God, this woman can talk the hind leg off a donkey and I'd be never wiser what she said at the end than at the beginning. Helen waited for the slight gap in the monologue and jumped in.

"Let me stop you for a moment. You're saying in short that you've done nothing and said nothing against me."

"I was going to say that I'm a bit hurt that you might think that way," Jo said with further obfuscations.

"And that includes my sexuality, that I'm a mother and a lesbian?" interjected Helen sternly, looking straight in the eye at Jo. A dead silence ensued which Helen prolonged just long enough to make her point.

"So you're silent and I presume unless you say otherwise that you have no problem with me including these specifics," pressed Helen relentlessly.

The other woman scowled in frustration as much as her inexpressive nature let her. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, I've heard tell that some people think that your behaviour to Tony is, well, innappropriate. It's not what I'm saying," Jo said spitefully.

"Innappropriate?" echoed Helen in incredulous laughter. She'd seen this one coming and was ready for it."He's straight and I'm gay so what's the problem? Besides, he's a nice guy and an old mate of my partner Nikki Wade. He is friendly and approachable and I wish everyone was like him. You see what I'm getting at?" Helen carried in in her sweetest tones.

There was another distinct pause before Helen wrapped up the interview.

"Like I say, silence means consent and I'm holding you to this and there'll be consequences if things don't change. I stand for fairness, a good atmosphere to work in and a total absence of discrimination and prejudice which includes any homophobia being knocked on the head. Is that clear? If so, I thought you had your work to get back to," she concluded, pushing her advantage to the maximum. It was no great surprise that an angry and flustered Jo Watts got out of the office as fast as her feet could take her.

Helen looked at her watch. This was a worthwile twenty minutes that was time well spent. She next considered which outfit she'd wear for London Pride.

Meanwhile Alice had got over there earlier frustration and disappointment at being passed over for promotion. She talked about her feelings to George one evening when they both had spare time. They were sipping their drinks while the lights were soft and intimate.

"You know George, I'm not bothered any more about furthering my career. I'm happy as I am,"Alice declared snuggling up against her partner and having her hand gently stroked.

"I'm glad to hear you're happy. What caused this change of mind?" she asked gently while stroking Alice's slender hand.

"Living with you makes me happy of course," Alice said, giving her lover a soft kiss."I've realised that I like my job though it's hard work and has its frustrations. Going one step up would take me away from what gives my job meaning, in working with people, spending half my time in management bullshit and in putting pressure of others to do more work. I couldn't run a galley ship to save my life," she said softly.

"Then that's what it takes to live a satisfied life," George said softly, returning the kiss only deeper and more passionate.

A little while later as Alice was buttoning up her shirt up after George had let her desires run riot, George was doing the same for her skirt and she remembered something she had to say before she forgot.

"Don't forget, we're childminding for Helen and Nikki this Saturday. I've told Trisha what we're doing for Pride so we're free," George said.

"You've caught me at my worst position to resist, just after you've had your wicked way with me," Alice said semi-humourously when all she wanted was to lie next to her lover is a state of satisfaction.

"Darling, what's wrong. Your job is dealing with children and I'm a mother, well sort of. Besides, Jo told me how delightful and stimulating Rose is. We'll be fine," George urged at her most persuasive, running her fingers along the inside of Alice's leg to make her point.

Alice laughed affectionately at her mischievous partner. She went with the flow on this one.

.

"Rose, we want to talk to you," Helen said to the alert child who was already guessing there was something afoot. "We're going out tonight to Chix and we'rer asking for a couple of friends to look after you."

"Oh good, is it Jane and Jo or is it Sally-Anne and Trisha this time?" the little girl asked excitedly, taking the two women by surprise. A part of them was painfully severing the umbilical cord and putting at risk their child's emotional security. To Rose, she could probably take care of herself but her parents' friends meant an emotional holiday time for her.

"It's George and Alice this time," explained Nikki.

"George?" queried Rose. Her parent's female friends normally came in twos except for her uncle John and John, the judge who was somehow special to them all and, oh yes, her grandparents.

"Short for Georgia. She's a glamorous female barrister like Jo Mills who's a bit of a live wire while Alice is very soothing and comforting," explained Helen carefully spwelling out a thumbnail sketch for their daughter.

"Any friends of yours are good enough for me," Rose breezily, mentally pushing her parents out the door in advance to go out and enjoy themselves. She suspected that she would get to know them all sooner or later.

As the coloured lights clicked on and the soothing musical rhythms started playing, a feeling welled up in Trisha and Sally-Anne that this evening of dancing, romancing, good times and sparkling conversations was as good as it had ever been ferom the start. This time felt momentous as this club was prepatring to make its statement right out there on the streets and the VIP room was good and ready for them all.

Gradually, the club started to fill up as taxis disgorged scantily dressed women, dressed up to the nines. They converged on the club, smiling and waving as they recognised each other or else at their shared purpose. Soon, a throng of women built up at the admissions desk and cloakroom, alreadfy moving slightly at the muffled sounds leaking through the walls.

Trisha and Sally were at their accustomed posts welcoming visitors hospitably and keeping an eye around them but they waved at their old friends as they suddenly materialised out of nowhere from out of the swirls of coloured lights and seductive sounds. Feeling like schoolgirls let off the leash, they queued up at the bar and chattered away at each other. Once served, they looked around for a vague sense of leadership and got it.

"Do we party first or talk?" Helen said, getting down to business.

"Oh, that's a hard one. Making decisions," joked Karen. Helen grinned briefly at her friend, remembering their days in the prison service.

"We talk first and then we can enjoy the rest of the evening undisturbed," Beth suggested thoughtfully. That went down well and so it was that they trooped off upstairs and gathered around the long table set out specially for them. Each of them looked around expectantly.

"This isn't going to be a formal minute taking, meeting type thing?" questioned Jane as she humorously stumbled for words.

"Hey chill out. This is about organising a celebration out on the streets rather than in the club. It's just a bit more complicated so we know what each other is doing and do we wear any sort of costume. Trisha looks as if she's got some ideas," interjected Nikki in a light-hearted manner so as to get her friend set up to kick off the discussion.

All eyes were turned towards the head of the table to where Trisha sat, head bursting with all sorts of ideas. Would this crazy scheme work or were they biting off more than they could chew?


	26. Chapter 26

All eyes were focussed on Trisha as she was the centre of attention. Even Jane who became light-hearted when off duty, realised that someone had to deal with serious business. Trisha had worked in a bank years before and a little of that training remained with her.

"First off, I've just been told that we're third float from the front as it should be after years of being around the scene and paying our dues," she announced with visible pleasure.

"Oh good. We've got someone in front of us we can steal a few moves off," Karen joked. Underlying this was a committment to be there and Trisha knew it.

"Se what is the float going to involve?" questioned Beth thoughtfully. The whole thing felt like a bare stage with no cast and no props unless, in her organised fashion, something was prepared in advance.

"For a start, we've hired a mobile PA for the float and our DJ will blast our favouirite music at maximum volume. This is a street party. I've also got some sketches of the float," continued Trisha sensing consent with everything up to date," and they look pretty good to me. Since you'll be taking turns to groove around on it, I wanted you to check them out. You'll need a bit of imagination to picture yourselves in the middle of it all but I know you'll get the picture," Trisha explained in her clear, precise voice.

As the sketches wetre passed around the table from hand to hand, a murmur of approval rippled round the group. They liked the big open platform and the big bold white shaped lettering of the club and the contrasting shades and areas of pink with orange and green thrown in for food measure. It looked big enough to manage a number of them as dancers and space in the front for the DJ and the PA system.

Nikki was the last to see the sketches and she exchanged a whole-souled satisfied smile with her old friend. It hit them both and moved them deeply that this was the culmination of their original idea many years ago to make a world where lesbians could be safe to follow their heart's desires and pleasure. Getting Chix off the ground from their ordinary straight jobs was one stage in this project and Nikki felt proud to help out Trisha and Sally-Anne's next major step forwards. It all started one late night's dismal evening when they'd sat out on a park bench one rainy night after being driven from some nondescript pub by the local was in the far off days of Section 28 and the gutter press sicking its knife in.

"You know what this means Nik?"

"This whole thing is bigger than any of us could once dream. This is real and you and Sally-Anne have done great," she answered, voice slightly trembling as Helen held her hand and Sally-Anne smiled gratefully at her for understanding.

"What are we all going to wear," Jo asked the inevitable question that had to be posed as they all sat in the warm gentle glow of the ideal. They had to come down to detailed reality sooner or later.

"Well, we certainly don't have to wear some kind of uniform as that would spoil the whole point. Pink and fancy boas are pretty common. What do the rest of you guys feel?" Sally-Anne suggested in reassuring tones.

"Jane and I are torn between wearing nurses' uniforms to make a political point or dressing up in colour and style. I assume the police will lead the march looking suitably butch so they'll corner the uniform motif," Karen commented in her chatty fashion.

"I'm attracted to colour and flash. I've always had a weakness for pink," chimed in Jane.

"George certainly doesn't but there may be a compromise agreement in the offing," winced Jo as memories of an earlier concersation in the court locker room came to mind...

"You must be mad, Jo utterly mad. You know that pink is the one colour I loathe and detest," George had said with considerable force after a gruelling session in court. They were about to hang up their gowns and wigs for the day in the pale, cramped quarters of the locker room when Jo had optimistically thought that George's disputatious nature would be at a low ebb.

"But it's traditional. You've been on Pride events before so you know it," was the best Jo's tired mind had come up with.

"But why is it traditional I ask you?" George had countered with a triumphal grin splitting her face knowing that she'd got Jo cold.

"Er, it just is, like Christmas turkey," had come the lame response.

"That's not good good enough and you know it," George had pressed relentlessly.

Jo had been highly conscious of having walked into a , she had searched for inspirations amongst the cabinets which had leaned over her until a bolt of inspiration had hit her out of the blue.

"I have the ideal compromise George. we wear what we've got on. It would be enough of a political statement and wouldn't offend your finely attuned sensibilities."

"You can't be serious Jo. The very thought of it,"George had answered after a distinct pause. The flicker of her eyes gave her inner uncertainty away.

"But what's wrong with the idea? We've both been well established for years and we haven't exactly made a secret of our partners even if we haven't made a big thing about it. Even if there was talk about this latest stunt, our clients put practical considerations of our track record in court over everything else," Jo had countered with a smoothly rolling style of sweetly reasonable argument and a smirk on her face.

"Well, you might get all political about being out and proud like you do about everything else. I have less need to convince the world than you do," George had said, not altogether feeling convinced of her own arguments let alone anyone elae.

"It's only like the way John, Monty and the other brethren paraded in full view of the Home Office in their robes of office when they went on strike, aiming to land themselves on page one of the national press and no harm came of them. What they did, we can surely imitate," Jo had drawled, leaning languidly against the lockers and knowing that this argument was a crusher.

"Jo you are completely impossible. John is John and I'm me," exploded George without elaborating further.

"So long as we don't have to wear pink. It's all black and white and looks very chic," Jo had teased, knowing that she'd gor George on the run.

"I suppose it might be fifteen all," George had muttered mulishly before a slight smile forced its way through the surface at the humour of the situation..She'd asked for it, she had conceded to herself as she turned to disrobe."All right Jo. I'll sleep on it and let you know tomorrow. There's one condition. It is not practical to wear these wigs and jig around on top of a float. we risk spoiling them unless you can come up with a good answer."

"Is there something worrying you George?" Jo had asked a little while later as they were crossing the foyer.

"If you must know, I'm nervous about looking after Nikki and Helen's daught Rose tonight even with Alice's help. I've never thought of myself as the ideal mother since Charlie spent the majority of her time growing up being looked after by John. I'm supposed to be the expert," George had frankly admitted the one thing that had bothered her for days.

"Just relax George and go with the flow. Rose is a thoroughly delightful child," Jo had reassured an unconvinced George before they hit the bright daylight of the world outside...

"I don't want to commit myself to the alternastive in case it comes to nothing," Jo ended on a firm and final note and others respected her point of view.

"But what about you guys?" asked Beth compassionately of Trisha and Sally Anne."After all, you're doing all this hard work."

"I know I'm naturally inclined to dress like a bank clerk that I used to be but I've got a special patterned trouser suit in all kinds of reds, pinks and purple. It's a bit outside my comfort zone but hey, it's Pride," smiled Trisha inviting her friends to visualise the transformation."

"I'm going to the other extreme in an all-black suit with high heels and a nicely constrasting multi-coloured boa," exclaimed Sally-Anne excitedly.

"I'm wearing my favourite green outfit. I've scoured my wardrobe and that stands out to me," confessed the practical Helen decisively.

"I'm torn between jeans and a pink T-shirt or my pinstripe black trouser suit," Nikki said, obviously appealing for help. Her faith in her friends was soon rewarded.

"Definitely the suit," pronounced Karen."You look drop dead gorgeous in it. There'll be enough pink on the float not to be a problem, don't forget." This response cheered Nikki up.

"There's more to deal with," Trisha continued in her pleasant, clear voice. She'd used the fashion discussion to get the others focussed oin the details of the procession. She opened up a slim book with a stylish cover illustration underneath a red, orange, yellow, green, blue and indigo glag and she turned to the list of the procession. There was a general whistle of appreciation at the plans as Trisha explained them. They'd been on similar events over the years but as individual participants taking things as thewy found it. They'd not seen it as systematically laid out like this and made them feel more privy to a real social movement as it was shaping up and intensified their committment to it. Some of them had had recent experiences that sequed them nicely up to the matter in hand and gave added spice to their grand purpose.

Just then, Jo's mobile rang. eyebrows raised, she saw it was George on the line.

"Hi jo. I thought I'd let you know that I want to wear my full legal rigout complete with wig if some way can make sure it stays on my head. I also fancy a white feather boa with it but you can choose what you want."

In the background, an astonished Jo Mills heard an excited child call out and Alice's faint but distinct voice try to shush her very kindheartedly. Jo grinned broadly that Rose had charmed the stern-minded George to let her stay up. Surely it was bed time amd her two mothers hasd drawn the exact same conclusions.

"Hey, I thought you'd have got Rose to bed by now," teased Jo lightheartedly.

"I hnow but Rose is such a darling. We've been chatting so much. Wait Rose, you have to get to bed sooner or later," George was saying unconvincingly

"Just a minute while I talk with Jo and Jane and Trisha and Sally-Anne and my mummies. I'll be ever so quick," pleaded Rose not altogether Jo looked around feeling unsure how to handle this one, Helen got up and headed over to where Jo was sitting with a stern expression on her face.

"Rose says she wants to speak to me, Jane, Trisha, Sally-Anne Nikki and you," reported Jo with a straight face. She knew very well how impossible this was.

"Rose, you are a born chatterbox," Helen answered in stern tones that reminded Nikki of the dormant Wing Governor inside her."By the time you'll have finished with everyone, it'll be chucking out time and you'll be unbearable the next day as you'll wake up worn out from a late night of chattering. This is not on. I know you want to see all our friends and you'll be your delightful self but this is not on. You've already got George and Alice and I'm sure you've made the most of it but it's bed time for you miss. Got that?"

"Yess miss," Rose said meekly and submissively much to George and Alice's relief. In George's eyes, the little girl had been perfectly adorable but she was beginning to feel really tired while Rose was unstoppable.

"I'll say goodnight to you from me and Nikki and love you always," Helen said more tenderly.

"Love you mums. Night night," Rose said as a wave of tiredness suddenly hit her."Come take me to bed you two," she said with sleepy authority to the two women in the comfy security of Nikki and Helen's flat. George smiled warmly as she and Alice trailed after the little girl who was sucking her thumb. She rapidly got ready for bed and looked very demure and a little tired but she wanted a last minute chat.

"I'm sorry. I get so many ideas that I get carried away? Is that really wrong?" The two women were touched by the expressive look in Rose's eyes. George knew she was spokesman and had to be dead honest.

"I wouldn't change you for the world as life would be so dull. Your mother's right. It wasn't the right time, that's all," she said softly.

"It's been a real pleasure in getting to know you Rose. You're really interesting to talk to," followed up Alice. This pleased and satisfied Rose.

"You'll come around and we'll meet again?" questioned Rose.

"You want to meet a lot of your mummies' friends," Alice said with a tender smile and Rose nodded her head. This sounded like warm-hearted approval to her and what she wanted to hear. Other grownups didn't get it.

"Can you passs me my two nearest teddies on the shelf. I'm ready to sleep now," Rose said, yawning as she spoke. She curled up on her side and the two women took turns to kiss her cheek. Their perfume was a familiar sensation to her and everything felt right, every question was answered.

As they tiptoes out of the room and clicked off the bedroom light, George started to weigh up interesting possibilities...

...as in the meantime, Helen started to mull over her conversation with Rose thoughtfully. It crossed her mind that there was one simple way that Rose could meet her friends but she had reservations. Still, she put the matter on one side as conversations carried on.

"Well, if it's OK with you Jane, I'm up for dressing up in my wig and gown as George is," Jo said with great satisfaction.

"Darling, we don't have to have matching outfits to prove we are an item," Jane answered with sturdy common sense.

"You know, I wonder if there isn't a place for Rose on this. after all, it's not a great deal different from a street carnival. The only problem is if she got any kickback from school and she might not want to anyway Then again, it's not my call," Karen said reflectively, letting the words hang on the air.

"Hey, let's join the party. It's fun time," Trisha called out in her carefree fashion as they all became aware of the most seductive song in the DJ's repertoire insinuate itself into their senses. With cheers of joy, Sally-Anne led the procession down the stairs. Once through the door and into the dance floor, the music amplified itself into a deleriously joyful level and they were ready for the here and now.


	27. Chapter 27

It had suddenly burst out of nowhere with no warning. Cassie and Roisin happened to be outside their house one late Saturday afternoon, cleaning the front windows. The light was fading fast and they were finding it increasingly hard to check their handiwork. For some reason they wanted to finish off the last bit of window. However, mingled sounds of shuffling feet on paving slabs, a young lad's voice and residual sounds of crying started to leak into their consciousness as they rubbed away at the high front windows. It prompted them to pay more attention and, as they turned around, they saw a sight that challenged them to make sense of what an earth had led up to this.

It was an ordinary weekend for Rose. Her best friend Emma lived in a house that was only accessible by road the thirds side round a square layout. It was most easily accessible by a short cut that saved at least half the walking. At the end of a few blocks of houses down the road that they lived in, there was an tarmac alleyway leading along the side of the house. This gave way to to a rough footpath that cut across the back of the estate to a dead end road on the other side and Emma lived in one of these old terraced one side of the footpath were narrow strips of allottments that extended back to the back walls of houses on the fourth side of the square. Their owners proudly grew ruuner beans, peas and carrots and, on weekends especially, the allottments were a hive of industry where the budding plants were lovingly watered and prepared for the harvest. On the other side of the path was a contrasting unruly wilderness of unkempt undergrowth, tall trees and indistinct areas of broken down brick walls. It was a natural play area for children to energetically enact their three dimensional childhood imaginary constructs and, more simply, good trees for climbing. Later on in the day, teenagers used the place to hang out, unknown to their parents and what their purpose there was more obscure than childhood activities.

Since Michael had become a teenager, he was furtive when he wasn't being unreasonably touchy. He made sure that he kept up with his homework so that they couldn't run a guilt trip on that one and find excuses to stop him doing what he wanted. He gave minimum information to Cassie and Roisin when he was going out and who his friends were and what they were like as mum especially couldn't resist being inquisitive for every last detail./ Something deep within himself needed to keep things secret even from himself.

In reality, while his mothers worried about him and were frustrated at his attitude, he was hanging out in a small clearing insisde the wilderness with his new friends. Heavy shadows started to hang down from the tall trees as the sun was well down on the horizon.

"Want a cigarette Michael" one of them asked him. This made him feel tense in a way he could not describe as he was hyper conscious of just how much he was accepted. He hoped be wouldn't be seen to fumble too much with the cigarette and worst oif all, choke on the fumes. He could never get away from the lurking sense of insecurity which was far outweighed by his need to belong, to be like evetryone else whilst knowing that his family situation marked him out as different. By keeping up a perilous balencing act, he thought it made him feel normal.

Together, they started talking about the cares of their lives including grumbling about parents. Michael's solution to the obvious problem was to always talk about mum. Fortunately, another lad's mother was a single parent who was always rushing around, moaning about him to clean his room and other boring annoying things and this helped cover his position.

Finally, one in the group started talking about football and this changed the topic of conversation. Though none of them could admit it publicly, the constant moaning about parents was starting to depress them, much though it provided a bond of started talking about the latest game they'd all watched on TV and going through a blow by blow analysis of how the game went, of how their favourite players had performed. They were sitting on a fallen tree trunk whose branches had fallen off and this had served duty as a prop for an earlier childhood adventure in the head of spaceships but which now served as a collective bench. This all helped remind the group that they'd got so much in common. Finally, one of them fished out of a shoulder bag a green can of Tenant's super strength lager. He smirked to the others how he'd persuaded the helpful Indian store owner that he was small for his age of eighteen. Michael looked at it dubiously as he'd never seen this before.

"What's this?" he found himself saying very foolishly to the others.

"It's super strength lager. It says so on the tin," came the smartass reply. Michael's face set rigid while all the time he felt like dropping through the floor in embarrassment. At moments like this, an inner voice was speaking persistently to him.

"Have a swig. I'ts a present.I got it from the local Indian shop by pretending I was young looking for eighteen," smirked the other lad knowingly.

As Michael put the metal to his lips and tilted it to drink, a nauseous slug of cold liquid dropped into his stomach. It reacted badly with him and his guts felt like heaving. His senses were stricken and he also felt dizzy.

"Excuse me," he mumbled to the others and he blindly staggered off to the undergrowth holding onto his stomach as he threw up. He had to get away somewhere, anywhere for relief. The others looked at each other with veiled contempt and amusement.

"What a wimp," one of the others finally said and the others laughed sarcastically. In retrospect, they regretted asking him out so they moved on out, sharing the can as they went along.

Meanwhile, Rose had been spending an enjoyable Saturday afternoon over at Emma's after she'd been dropped off. The house was smaller, less spacious than her own but she immediately got the feeling of being at home. Emma's mum was a single mother who did her best to juggle the demands of holding down a not very well paid job with irregular hours and looking after Emma. Somehow, even if she arrived home tired and drained, she managed a warm smile as she greeted her daughter. Helen could place her as she dropped off her daughter at school but never had the chance to chat to her as she flew off back to her rather elderly car, hair flying in the wind.

So there they were, in Emma's bedroom having a nice intimate talk that they rarely got at school while her mother was singing to herself as she did the cleaning. They came downstairs after a bit and Emma's mum started tallking to her.

"I really don't have the time to be around as much as I like. I'm really glad that Emma's got a nice friend like you. I've heard such a lot about you already," she said, wiping something out of her eye as she spoke.

"I'm really happy here. I don't get many invitations out," Rose admitted, her voice slightly shaking. Emma's mum smiled warmly back at her and stroked her hair affectionately.

After a little while, Emma showed her friend the back garden which was a slightly overgrown rockery where plants grew where they naturally seeded. They looked at the back of the two up and two down terraced cottage in the still air as the sun started to set and sat down on the stone slabs. There was a slight rustling sound and Emma's mum came down to meet them with two glasses of orange squash. This was what they now realised they wanted.

The sun was setting, leaving an orange and yellow glow low down on the skyline and on a portion of the sky while, on the opposite side, it was becoming a darker shade of blue and shadows were starting to extend their way forward. At this moment, Emma's mum came down the path, not to calmly welcome them inside into the warmth and the light but was much more distressed than Rose had expected.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, girls, but I've got a problem. I'm being called on to work for an hour or so. I can't wait. You two'll be fine enough if you stay inside," she gabbled at top speed.

Rose never spotted the disappointed but resigned expression on Emma's face as this was the sort of thing that had happened to her before since she'd been on her own with mum. It wasn't normal for a child that young to be left alone like this but somehow, the two of them hadf managed without any serious consequences. It did cross her mind that Emma's mum had no backup support and seemed isolated but that thought passed. In a daze, she'd let herself be shepherded into the house which had suddenly lost its golden glow of security as it had possessed earlier on. Emma's mum rapidly scrawled a note as to her phone number where she would be working. She flew out the door and was gone.

"Don't worry Rose," Emma started to say when a sudden rush of ideas poured into Rose's head. The answer was obvious.

"I know what to do, Emma. You're supposed to stay here till your mum comes back but I'm not allowed to stay here without a grownup. To save time, I'll get back home through the footpath at the back of your road. it'll be an adventure," Rose said with rapid precision, putting on her coat.

"But Rose," Emma started to say but her friend had zoomed off out the front door By the time Emma had gone outside, her friend was already clattering up the road. Emma blew out her cheeks in frustration as she knew her friend could outrun her any day and had already secured a head start. She slowly went back inside and shut the front door firmly. The house suddenly seemed colder and bleaker than it had before when she was last left on her own- certainly while her friend was running loose on her own and she daren't phone her mother and tell her what had happened. She was angry with Rose but couldn't help loving her. In the meantime, she scrunched her knees up to her chest to try and feel better as she sat in her favourite armchair but it didn't do any good.

Meanwhile Rose had clattered down the road while the glow of the streetlights helped her. She veered off into the footpath and was a little disconcerted to find darker than she'd expected. Nevertheless, she was making good time as a quarter of the way through the journey, she slowed down to a walk. She felt confident enough as she knew the path like the back of her hand. .

Michael wiped the vomit from his mouth and looked at his rumpled clothes. His trouser knees were soiled from where he'd stumbled onto the earth. Although his mouth and stomach tasted foul, he pulled himself together and retraced his steps back to the clearing. His annoyance about his friends pushing off elsewhere broke surface and he seriously wondered why he'd been ingratiating himself to them and left behind a friend whose only sin was that he wasn't trendy or cool. Nevertheless, he resolved to give them one last try. Straining his ears, he was clued in by sounds of people galumphing their way through the undergrowth and familiar voices shouting indistinctly. He drew closer to them and found himself back on the path.

The other lads had split the can of lager in greedy swigs and it went astraight to their heads. true, it tasted foul but smoking had been initially tricky to get right. All sorts of things came in to their heads as they staggered around, picking up stray objects and hurling them randomly.

"Hey, this is great stuff. I'm out of my head. I can do anything," one of them said.

"It's easier like this," laughed another.

"hey, who's that coming up the path? Can't be the police- he's too little," called out a third.

"Sssh, ssh," another of them said laughing.

At this time, Rose had walked three quarters of the way through the footpath when she heard the sounds oif lads clomping around and laughing. For the first time since she'd set off home, she was uneasy but she couldn't face retracing her steps and talking the long way home. they wouldn't have anything to do with her, she decided as she pushed her way forward.

"Hey, who's this girl? Shouldn't be here while we're here," the first lad said aggressively.

"She's that gay girl," taunted the second lad in a display of one-upmanship."My kid brother told me all about her. Everyone knows she's gay as she comes from a gay house."

If you don't mind, I'm going. I've got to get home," she said, trying to sound polite and brave. It didn't work.

"Oh no, you're not. we're going to have some fun with you first," laughed the third lad as they closed in a circle round her, trapping her. Now Rose really was frightened. She'd never come across this kind of cruelty before and words wouldn't get her out of this hole.

Suddenly, one of them pushed her from behind and she fell forwardas against the next lad who pushed her sideways to the other lad.

"Gay, gay, gay," they kept taunting her. Rose felt horribly helpless as these horrible lads were bigger and stronger and more powerrful than she was. She started to cry and this only made the bullies start laughing. She could smell alcohol and sweat on their bodies, offending her senses. This was the worst thing that could happen to her. She fell over and grazed her knee and only a miracle of agility got her to her feet.

"Hey Michael. We've got a game saved up for you," one of them shouted and a space opened up and to Michael's horror, he say the pleading green eyes of the little girl who'd grown up next door. Rose had a momentary flash of last resort hope and fear that he'd join in with the rest. After all, he'd been horrible for months.

"Save me Michael," she called out.

In a split second, Michael Connor's mind was made up and he knew at last who's side he was on. If he chickened out, he'd be forever damned in his own mind.

"Leave her alone. She's a neighbour and a friend of mine," he called out. The first lad's face turned purple and hateful and Michael smacked him hard in the face and he staggered back.

"Run for it Rose. I'll help you," Michael called out urgently. He was putting his neck on the line but it was the right thing to do. .

With the last vestige of will power, Rose shot forward into the gap and Michael ran behind her. They heard shouts and yells of rage and they started running after them. To Michael's immense relief, he realised that Rose could run like lightning even after the shaking up she'd received. After the initial panic, they started to realise that the thundering footsteps behind them became fainter. In no time at all, they reached the tarmac alleyway and the blinding street lights told them that they were within safety.

"Hold on Rose, I think they've stopped chasing us," Michael panted and they dropped down to a trot and then they were walking. It was then that Rose started crying again in mingled gratitude at Michael's kindness and the shock at what had happened to them. It was then that Roisin anxiously called out, seeing Michael's dishevelled appearance and Rose looked even worse than him what with her grazed knee and general teariness.

"What on earth's happened Michael?" Roisin called out in precisely the kind of shrill anxious tone that was sure to get Michael's back stiffened at this blunder.

"It's all right. Michael's rescued us. You let us tell you what's happened. Everything's all right, believe me," burst out Rose tearfully. She couldn't see Michael get wrongly accused.

"Take it easy kid. Let's get the facts first and let's get inside," Cassie's steadying voice spoke in her partner's ear.

"You both look as you've been through a hedge backwards and we're shattered from window cleaning so let's have you guys inside," Cassie said in easy reassuring tones with a smile in her voice and on her face. For the first time in ages, Michael looked back at Cassie straight in the eye and mouthed a thank you. Cassie was right about him as always, he thought to himself as at last he had come home.

Once inside, Rose fell ino Roisin's comforting arms as she was about done in and the aftershock of her nightmare experiences overtook her. The dark-haired woman's memories went back from when she'd driven Helen to the hospital and all the times their paths had crossed. Cassie immediately poured Michael a large beaker of orange squash which he gratefully drank while Roisin lovingly washed and bandaged Rose's knee. They all collapsed into the waiting settees and armchairs took it easy when a bewildered Niamh came out of her bedroom where she'd been intent on her own purposes.

"Suppose you two guys explain what happened. We're entirely in the dark," ventured Cassie tactfully. Michael exchanged glances and Rose felt recovered enough and called upon by him to speak for them. She retailed the story keeping it direct and clear while Michael nodded agreement. He smiled gratefully when Rose expanded at length on how he'd come to the rescue and he admired the way she'd collected herself so quickly. A long silence ensued while the others took it all in.

"Mums, I'm really sorry for how horrible I've been over the last months. I've been unbearable. I was only trying to get in with this gang at school. I couldn't keep them happy and you guys at the same time. I promise things will change," Michael said slowly and with deliberate emphasis. For the first time, Roisin thought that he sounded like a man yet curiously like the little boy who'd tried to do the right thing when she'd been imprisoned with Cassie. All the associated memories of that period reminded her that she and Cassie had made their share of mistakes.

"We believe every word you've said and we're so proud of you," Roisin said tremulously. Michael got up and gave both his mothers a hug and he shook hands with curious solemnity with Rose.

"You've been fantastic. I'm sure Niamh feels the same," Rose said gratefully.

"Not bad, big brother. You're a star," Niamh said with apparent flippancy that said everything. All at once a thought struck Rose. She had unfinished business.

"Can I borrow your phone? I did a really silly thoughtless thing and ran off and left Emma on her own. I've got a lot of making up to do when I see her on Monday," she said nervously.

"Best not tell her of all the nasty stuff Rose. Just apologise and take as long as you need to reassure her," Michael said in mature tones. Both Cassie and Roisin marvelled at the way their teenage terror was being so wise and responsible. Roisin couldn't resist affectionately ruffling her son's tousled hair and loved it that he didn't pull away at this display of maternal affection.

"Of course you can use the phone, Rose.I'll nip round and tell Helen and Nikki that you're safe. I bet they'll think that you're having a sleep in with your friend. They're welcome here obviously," Roisin said decisively, taking in the glances of approval in the family circle which was set to expand. As Rose chattered away with her diplomatic skills on the phone, Michael was sat in an armchair in the gentle light relaxing in the warmth and glow of finally belonging. This was what he really wanted.

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	28. Chapter 28

Helen and Nikki were taken by surprise when Cassie came round and told them of Rose's unexpected appearance from out of nowhere at their house. When they saw Rose's bandaged knee, questions poured out of their overheating imaginations. They'd been hard at work on the back garden oblivious to the drama unfolding. for the first time, Rose was supposed to be at Emma's for a sleepover as far as they were aware..

"What on earth's happened?" Helen began to say when Cassie cut in.

"It's a long, long story but everything's fine, except for a grazed knee. Suppose you explain what happened Rose since you were there?" the fair-haired woman said gently.

The little girl felt fully recovered from her ordeal but she was reluctant to tell the story as she knew she'd let her impulses get the better of her good sense. At key points in the story, she looked downwards but she very kindly abbreviated michael's part in the story until the point when he came on the scene. Finally, she stopped and waited for a scolding.

"I'm sure you know very well by now where you went wrong. Sometimes you need to think twice before you act. For a start, you owe your friend Emma an apology bigtime," Helen said in firm but not unkind tones.

"You're right, mums," she said meekly."I've phoned Emma up to reassure her that everything's right and make sure she's OK. I didn't want to tell her until Monday about the trouble I got into."

"Well done Rose," Helen said, smiling kindly on the little girl."I've got to say also that Emma's mother was at fault in not phoning Nikki or I. It was her responsibility, not yours. We'll have to seriously rethink things to you get to go on sleepovers in future without any more mishaps."

"Thanks mums," Rose said meekly while Niamh and Michael exchanged glances as they saw Rose being fairly and kindly treated.

"Anyway, thank God you're all right. That's the most important thing. We also owe Michael bigtime that you're all right," Nikki said kindly, taking in all the others in the room with her glance.

"Just what I was going to say. We can't thank you enough Michael for sticking up for Rose. It's not the easiest thing in the world to do. God knows what would have happened if you weren't there. I only hope you don't get into any trouble over it," Helen said, her eyes misting over with gratitude. Michael knew very well that this sharp minded woman had filled in all the mental blanks and yet was incredibly grateful. this boost to his self-worth glowed within him because he hadn't felt this in a long while.

"I couldn't have done different. This bustup with them had to happen. I've got nothing in common with them any more and I know who my friends really are," Michael said steadily with a clear look in his eye and a quiet readiness to take on the world. An immense sense of peacefulness and belonging settled down on the room and Cassie drew the bind on the darkness outside.

"After dragging you over here, we must invite you all for a cup of tea and some home made cookies," Roisin offered hospitably. She had cooked them only this evening in a fit of industriousness while Michael had been out and Niamh had retreated into her room. She'd reached for this to get away from their worries about Michael that had been steadily eating away and suddenly, their whole world had turned on its axis.

It was only then that the delicious smell of fresh cooking wafted through from the kitchen now they had relaxed enough to take notice of it.

"Mmmm, can I get fresh orange juice and two cokes for you guys?" Michael offered, catering hospitably for his sister and their friend. Soon, everyone was sitting comfortably and chatting pleasantly. Cassie exchanged glances with Roisin of sheer blissful happiness that their family had reunited as one with their friends and neighbours making them feel that they weren't on their own. Nikki and Helen gave off this aura of being visitors to exotic places while being down to earth. Roisin was the first to put this into words.

"So what do you do with yourselves except work and family Helen?" she enquired.

"Well, Nikki and I have started going to a club called Chix with our woman friends who take it in turns to look after Rose," Helen grinned, flicking the hair off her cheeks

.

"Hey, I saw a sporty looking car parked outside and two pretty women call, one fair haired and another with long dark hair. I was looking from mums' bedroom as I was curious."

"That'll be George, short for Georgia, and Alice. You played hopscotch with the club owners, Trisha and live together like Helen and I do and so do your mums," explained Nikki glancing all around. Up till then, they'd not talked about such matters but Nikki seized the chance to inch her way into the question. As the two women carried on talking, they became aware that there were two more volunteers for Pride in the offing but they are a little shy in coming out with it, just when their friends' family was bonding together so nicely. At length, Cassie detected something behind their friends' nervous smiles..

"I get the feeling you're holding something out on us, some intriguing secret. Come on, spit it out," she said.

The two women were uncertain how to pitch it and explain what Pride was all about as they wavered between talking to grownups and children but Cassie and Roisin were listening intently. they'd been ploughing their own furrow a lot of the time and hadn't thought in terms of universalising their experiences. In Roisin's head, she had problems she couldn't properly verbalise.

"We need to think about things. We'd really love to go in a way but it isn't that easy," Roisin found herself saying, feeling instantly foolish. . Her words were coming out all wrong. Cassie felt stuck for saying anything different as loyalties ran deep inside her. Michael and Niamh put two and two together just why their mums were so coy about the 's mind was starting to run over ideas as her mums hadn't told her of this.

"Is is Ok if Niamh, Rose and I have a private talk. Can we borrow your bedroom Niamh as mine needs tidying. I don't think we'll be long so could you guys hold your horses," Michael said in careful tones.

"Now what are they up to?" wondered Cassie aloud as the three children made a bee line for the bedroom.

"I think we should follow their advice," Nikki smilingly considered as she read their fleeting expressions before they moved off. In the interval, Roisin made a fresh pot of tea which they sipped and drank while their eyes flitted every so often to the closed door. In a short time, three smirking faces emerged and Michael and Niamh gave way for Rose to open the batting.

"Every year I've been driven to grandad's house in the country and had a lovely time and when I'm home, you two mums hint about what you've been doing. As soon as I start to ask questions, you tell me I'll understand when I'm older. I think I do understand after tonight and so do Michael and Niamh as we've been talking. we're coming on Pride," Rose said in her determined fashion, curiously imposing for one so young.

"It's lovely but you don't understand," Roisin started to protest when Michael joined in.

"Is this Pride thing something like a carnival Nikki? You must know a lot about this sort of thingt," he asked with his direct gaze.

"Something like it," answered Nikki with her ingrained honesty. Too late, she realised she'd been forced to admit this as three triumphant grins registered an important point gained. "I mean there's more to it than that.".

"We've thought up a little slogan just for us, " contributed Niamh producing a small sheet of coloured paper,' Proud of our mum's pride.' "We thought it sounded good."

"Hey," Helen answered with a gleam in her eye as her irresistable enthusiasm burst through."That mades a good slogan for a T shirt if we could find someone to make them up. Of course, the colours are up to you guys."

Cassie and Roisin witnessed this cross talk of ideas in front of them and they started to weaken, especially as their friends were obviously going to let Rose take part. How could they deny their children their wishes as long as they knew what they were doing?

"And of course, you won't have to worry about us being looked after when you have your fun as we'll be there with you," Rose added triumphantly with satisfied grins and nods from her two accomplices. Cassie and Roisin burst out laughingly as they couldn't resist this triple act. It made them happy inside in a dizzyingly buoyant mood. They looked at the clock in passing. Could so much have happened this evening in so short a time?

Eventually, everything caught up on Rose. Her eyelids were closing and she was sucking her thjumb and Helen and Nikki apologised for their exit as Rose would be dead to the world and conked out asleep in bed in no time at all or so they judged. The two women waved cheerily as they went out the door, lugging their daughter's dead weight and making a mental note of five extra volunteers for Pride.

As the four left in the house looked around themselves, this was the start of a new era where life patterns could easily be rewritten if they willed it. Cassie and Roisin knocked up an evening snack of sandwiches and drinks and cleared up the kitchen. They were in the mood to get everything clear before settling the children down to bed, something only Niamh had let them do for a long time. They didn't notice Michael and Niamh disappear mysteriously to Niamh's bedroom and only emerged when the two women had finished with different ideas in store.

"Mums, this has ended up the best evening for absolutely ages and we know how much you've looked after us over the years. we've come up with something different so you get the treat you deserve," Michael said.

"That's very kind of you both," Roisin said automatically and tailing off in bewilderment," but I don't quite understand." .

"Michael and I remember how when you make each other happy in the evening after we've gone to bed, you're so much more relaxed the next day," Niamh added, cutting to the chase.

"I know I've been horrible in the past so it's made it worse for you that you've not made each other happy for ages. I'm made everyone all stressed but that's not everything," pursued Michael.

"Which is why you two are having an early night and Michael and I will watch TV quietly and get ourselves to bed. You can kiss us goodnight now rather than later and Michael wants to get you know you guys all over again," continued Niamh with perfect coordination.

"But we've always put you to bed," protested Roisin as automatic habit kicked in while Cassie's mind started turning things over and remained silent.

"It's the weekend. It's only like the same sort of treat that you'll get but not quite the same. You really need this kind of happiness so much for yourselves," Michael answered with a particularly meaning tone in his voice. At last the penny dropped as it had taken them a long time to get their heads round it. Their children didn't want to deal with the specifics but knew that their physical love for each other made everyone secure.

"We'll trust you and we'll leave you to it," Cassie said lightly. Michael grinned out of sheer relief of being understood and respected and Niamh beamed with pleasure.

"Night night children," Roisin said followed by Cassie and kissed them on the cheek. Michael accepted this old-fashioned mothering with perfect grace as he somehow felt like a man. The last the two women saw of them was curling up on the settee, chatting contentedly over the TV choice.

"So here we are at last gorgeous," Cassie said, turning round to face her partner and lover in the brilliant white purity of their bedroom. She remembered now that Roisin had kissable lips and as for her full breaasts, words didn't do justice. The blond-haired woman moved closer with open arms to make her sudden rush of fantasies come real.

"Why don't you give me a quick grope?" Roisin breathed throatily into her lover's ear after having mostly unbuttoned her own shirt. Laughing with pleasure, Cassie deftly undid her lover's bra and her fingers greedily sought out her hearts desires. As Roisin felt nimble fingers gently squeeze and massage her, she moaned softly, feeling electric desires start to run through her system. With one hand, she ran her fingers through her lover's blond hair and with her other hand, she ran her fingers down Cassie's slim back and around her gorgeously shaped rear. Both women felt intense urges rise up which had been so long been denied and they greedily kissed each other, long and deep

"Do we get undressed or we have our wicked way with each other as we are," breathed Roisin with the last lungful of air left to her.

"Let's get naked and into bed. That way we can used fingers and tongues," gasped Cassie with a deleriously hard choice to make when self restraint even for a few minutes went against the grain.

"Good idea sweetheart," Roisin answered throatily. trust her lover to come to a sensible answer like everything else she did in their lives. In no time at all, their clothes were strewn all about them and they were rolling around their double bed, Cassie lying delightedly on top of her lover.

.

"I love you so much sweetheart. You mean the world to me," Roisin sighed, seeing Cassie's face above hers, framed by her unruly fair hair hanging down and her brilliant blue eyes.

"There isn't a woman in the world that has so much heart as you," Cassie solemly declared,

This was what she wanted, Roisin breathed, the woman who was dearest to her in the world who was kissing her shoulder and stroking the insides of her wide open legs. It seemed an age until Cassie eased her two fingers into her wetness and start to thrust back and fowards inside her and expertly work her up into a state of ecxtacy.

As Roisin's body and mind finally settled down from the delerious ecstacy of her orgasm that felt as if it lasted forever, she knew that she had to pleasure her lover with exquisite tenderness. Instead of lying on her back like a good Catholic, it would be her turn to be on top of her lover and move down her so that she could taste her intimacies and be at he heart of her beloved. A passing stray thought crossed her mind to tidy away their clothes if the children came into their bedroom in the morning. She mentally filed this away as she gave an expert twist of her body so that she could see her partner's grin on her face as she lay on her back, knowing very well what was in store for her.

Roisin blinked her eyes to a soft sunlit golden glow which bathed her senses. She gradually realized that this was morning yet she wasn't wearing her nightie as was her habit and she was being cuddled from behind. Of course, she and Cassie had spent last night in the most passionate lovemaking they'd had for ages which caused her sleepy sense of well-being to drift through her senses. The gentle squeeze from behind and kiss on her back announced cassie's awakening.

Suddenly the bedroom door opened and a happy looking Michael and Niamh occupied the gap. The accusing red shapes of the electric alarm clock on the bedside table caused a momentary twinge of guilt to run through Roisin that they'd been lying in and hadn't been up before the kids to get things ready.

"Morning mums. Hope you've had a good night sleep. Michael and I had a great evening. Do you want your morning cup of tea?" Niamh asked in her most angelic fashion.

Both women's instincts were to get up and out of bed but their nakedness inhibited them so they coyly clutched their quilt to cover their breasts.

"That's really kind of 'd love it," Cassie said softly, reining in the temptation to specify its precise chemical composition.

"We'll be ready for when you get up. See you guys in a bit," Michael said in his most angelic fashion.

The two women relaxed against the headboard relaxing in a sense of physical pleasure and drinking their early morning cup of tea.

"This is the life Roache. The kids are wonderful and we're in bed naked, the taste of each other's juices in our mouths mixed with a nice cup of tea. Couldn't be better." Roisin giggled and nearly spilt her tea at her lover's droll mixtures of descriptions. She was right though.

"So what shall we do together? I'm certainly in the mood and I hope you guys are," Cassie said, dressed in nicely wasahed pale blue jeans and red T shirt and rubbing her hands together with nothing in particular in her mind.

"We'', seeing that we've been so good, what about us all going to McDonalds?" Michael and Niamh exclaimed together ending in a gleeful shout. Roisin had always had strong views on traditional cooking which was a last trace of her upbringing but she couldn't resist smiling at how easily they'd been led into the trap. She saw Cassie's knowing grin and thought, what the hell.

"They do chicken sandwiches with salad and mayonaise," Niamh sweetly reasoned to her.

"Why not?" laughed Cassie. "This is the start of a new era. You guys better show us what you do, that's all."

The meal had gone fine. They'd entered a garish world full of yellows and reds with shuffling queues and mysterious food combinations but the children took the lead and soon, they were grouped round a table with other families and teenagers on nearby tables. They floated in a sense of belonging feeling perfectly natural. michael and Niamh grinned as their mother delicately bit into the burger and then peronounced it excellent.

"How do you want me to grow up mums? I'd be interested in what you think," Michael asked with deliberately casualness as they were finishing off the french fries and the cokes.

"That's a good question. I'd wish you to have good values, inner strength and to seek the truth, It's no big deal to do," Roisin said reflectively, lighening the seeriously.

"In other words, to be a man. You're making a very good start already. Some never get it," added Cassie. This was something they'd thought about from time to time.

"Then that's good," a very relaxed Michael said. The two women grasped that this question had been worrying him for months but he'd dared not ask them. He'd been in the anomalous position of being a growing man with two lesbiam mothers which oughtn't be a problem unless they masde it one.

And so, the afternoon passed dreamily on, a most meaningful moment passing in the hurly burly of a McDonald's cafe.

When they got home, Michael and Niamh were mentally limbering up to start their homework. He was at an age where he was starting to take notice of the world around him. He saw an article in the local newspaper and his expression got serious as he read and reread it. He deftly took the middle pages out of a new school exercise book started writing with a sense of resolve. He knew his mums would understand and approve.


	29. Chapter 29

/ N Credits to Eric Allison Tuesday 11 June 2013 The Guardian

" Lessons have been learned and steps taken to ensure failings will not be repeated." Fine words, coined sincerely, no doubt, but, in practice, often meaning nothing," said Kristine Thorne, calling out in her clear voice and projecting it to the back of the hallowed hall of the debating chamber in a Oxford University College. She was wearing a long black formal dress which contrasted with her auburn hair and the lighting focussed on her to best advantage as she was on a stage with Jules besides her keeping her company.

"In March this year, I read the investigation the inquest into the death of 37 year old James Best, who collapsed and died in Wandsworth prison, south London, in August 2011 after a strenuous workout in the prison gym. He had been remanded in custody, following the theft of a gingerbread man, during the riots that swept the country that summer.

The inquest jury heard that Best had been medically assessed as fit for the gym by an inmate, after staff failed to follow proper induction procedures. He had medical conditions – Crohn's disease, arthritis, high blood pressure and asthma – that should have barred him from heavy exercise. Such assessments were routinely carried out by prisoners, a clear breach of prison rules.

Following the critical verdict, a prison service spokesman said: "We will consider the findings to see what lessons can be learned, in addition to those already learned."

Two weeks ago, I received a letter from Greg Smith, a remand prisoner at Wandsworth. He had read my account of the death of Best and wanted to update me on gym procedures at the jail. Smith says he had recently applied to attend the gym. Like Best, he has a medical condition, but says mild workouts do not represent a danger to him. The gym induction class Smith attended was run by officers (suggesting some lessons have been learned). He and the other prisoners were given a medical assessment form, asking whether they had any of a number of conditions. Smith says the officer, who he named, said: "If you want to come to the gym, tick all the 'No' boxes, otherwise forget it." He did as suggested and was subsequently passed fit for the gym.

Smith says he has a heart condition requiring medication – nitroglycerin spray – which he receives from the prison's pharmacy. A simple cross check would have shown this and barred Smith from the gym. It was not undertaken. So much for lessons learned.

Of course, the responsibility for declaring their medical conditions lay with Smith, Best (though he had mental health problems) and all the prisoners who apply to attend the gym. But that onus has to be weighed against the prevailing conditions at Wandsworth. The last inspection report, in 2009, recorded many prisoners locked up for 22 hours a day; association (mixing with other prisoners) often cancelled; and exercise in the fresh air limited to 30 minutes a day and called off in bad weather. Recent budget cuts mean the situation has worsened since that report. Small wonder, then, that, cooped up like battery hens, inmates will cover up ailments to get out of their cells for an "extra" three hours a week in the company of others. In Wandsworth, where a death occurred after prison rules were badly breached – and where 18 men have died since January 2010 – special care should be taken to ensure the mistakes are not repeated. Some of those deaths were unavoidable. Some were not.

I have travelled down this penal road before, many times, and could list dozens of instances where mistakes have been made over and over again – from children taking their own lives, in circumstances where all the danger signs had been repeatedly flagged up, to decent officers forced out of the service by bullying staff. It is a long, depressing and seemingly neverending thoroughfare.

I am not here to provide thoughts about the prison service that are cosy and comforting or to reinforce prejudices instilled by the gutter press but to say it like it is about a part of society that's hidden from view and that this is what prison life is like right now."

John sat in the audience on an old fashioned hard wooden seat at the side of the hall, enraptured. It was where she was destined to be, he decided to himself and he was proud to accompany her. As weeks of close association drew into months, John reminded himself that he liked Kristine as much as anything that kept him interested in her. Their relationship over the years had been problematic by conventional standards but hadn't every one of his past relationships been and Kristine's likewise so far as he could judge? It was her strength and individuality that held definite attractions for him.

"What's worrying you John? It's only a university college that's been around longer than most," she had said four hours earlier when they'd driven up from London and had arrived at midday. She had adopted a light-hearted manner when his obvious nerviousness had become apparent. They'd approached the ancient sandstone arch that gave access to the quadrangle and a deja vu feeling had crept up on him.

"You're right Kristine but I have old associations with this place, not all of them being pleasant," he had answered in his typically understated fashion that he knew that his companion read like a book. As the walls closed in on him, unpleasant ghosts arose from the unquiet grave of his memories to haunt him.

"Baker's boy, baker's boy..." the assured patrician chants rang in his ears from down the years. He'd been a day student at his local grammar school and been brought up by his hard working father who was a baker and proud of his craft. He had got to Oxford on a scholarship and he'd arrived complete with his brand new college scarf, feeling like a fish out of water. He'd been dropped into a shark tank full of self-assured Old Etonians while his slight Birmingham accent drew amused contempt straightaway. No matter how he'd later done his best to iron out his accent, it was never good enough. Was this what had made him pugnacious throughout his life, this early conflict to stand up for himself from when he was a student? His father had certainly helped him develop intellectual curiosity and got him to question everything while his college contemporaries were intellectually blinkered while their self assured manner purported to know everything.

"Yeah, I remember it as if it were yesterday," John had added stoically in this flash of mental journeyings while he had hunched up his shoulders.

"What's wrong John?" Kristine had added in real alarm. His forced attempt to cover his feelings had raised alarm bells as she felt the degree of hurt he concealed.

"Oh it's nothing. It's a long time ago since I came by these parts. I'm looking at it all as if I'm a detached spectator," John had said in his elaborate way of phrasing and articulation.

"That's crap John and you know it," Kristine had added quietly and softly. The next second, John had thrown up his hands and had laughed, a little at himself.

"I'm so sorry Kristine. You're right. Old wounds take a lot of healing."

"So this is where you can do it. There'll be a debate after my lecture and you'll have the advantage of them so easily. What have they to offer compared with a lifetime experienced and considered so incisively? I know as I've been teaching students for years and Oxford students aren't that different," Kristine said softly and clearly, stopping to face John.

Impulsively, John had squeezed Kristine's spare hand. Jules had proudly trotted along leading his pack by his lead and bow resumed his journey.

"Let's walk on down the high street since the scouts will have dropped off our cases," John said carelessly. He was confident that the porters will have negotiated their cases up the ancient narrow staircase to their rooms over the quad. By coincidence, his room was the one he'd spent his first year at Oxford and he wasn't ready to face the memories he'd locked away for years.

As Kristine finished her lecture, she was certain that the applause wasn't convincing in its sincerity. To John as he sat on the side in the audience, she was the focus of light centring down on her from above while he was relatively placed in the darkness or was this a psychological contrast in these procedings that reflected his mood?

Kristine suspected that there was something up that caused him to put off his full reentry into his past but sooner or later, he would do it in his own good time. She anticipated that he'd give her a guided tour of his college experiences which she would compare with her own experience of campus trotted faithfully along.

"Of course, you have to beware of low flying cyclists round Oxford," joked John.

"You're expecting me to be the guide? I rely on you and Jules for that," she retorted with her sense of irony.

This made John laugh lightly and soon he drew them close to an ancient pub. he remembered this all right as his whole body stiffened. This used to be the Bullingdon Club's hangout and hostile territory.

"In case you haven't heard, the Bullingdon Club is Oxford University's more detestable traditions. Future rulers of this country move on up from the playing fields of Eton to the exclusive drinking, dining and hooligan public school club. I encountered them first at this pub years ago," John declaimed with a dramatic gesture of his outstretched arm.

"I'll hear no slanderous accusations, you old man and that disabled woman with you. Do you know who I am?" declaimed an arrogant voice right behind him.

John turned around with just the right theatrical pause with a hard glitter in his eyes while Jules, the leader of the pack uttered a sustained low throaty growl that sounded dangerous. Kristine was dumbfounded by such cheek but reckone that Jules was speaking for her. This combination stopped the lank-haired youth in his tracks, dressed as he was in a particularly tweedy jacket, white short and club tie that spoke of his connections.

"I'm John Deed, a high court judge and the last young thug I took on was in court. I won. Go on, get away with you," he said contemptuously and fists raised. The youth slunk off in embarrassment. This trick usually worked.

"You really know how to mix it," Kristine exclaimed, partly concealing her admiration of the natural man talking, not his rank and the novelty of a man taking up arms for her.

"I had to learn to punch my way through university and get over my shameful feelings of wishing my father wasn't a baker even though I changed my accent. I survived quite a few scrapes to get to be top scholar of my year, take part in a sit in and sleep with quite a few women who'd got bored with the usual Hooray Henry's," John said in a jaunty fashion.

"So not much has really changed. Come on, let's carry on with your trip down memory lane," Kristine said with mixed amusement and tenderness. She hugged his arm with her free hand with more of a display of public affection than was her habit but she was content to break a few of her own rules on emotional relationships.

"An interesting talk. The floor is open to anyone to ask questions or to express a point of view," the young woman said who was chairing the meeting. She was dressed in her best party dress and Kristine suspected cynically that she was a token concession to feminism or was else mere decoration, judging by the preponderence of men in the audience. Now was the moment of decision.

The small. old fashioned bedroom cum study was encrusted with memories of years of former occupants over the centuries and it shouldn't have witnessed anything new under the sun. This was the room John had once occupied as a fresh-faced student all these years ago. However, the middle aged man with greying hair had been openly weeping and Kristine had tried to comfort him as best as she could while Jules had trotted in circles, uttering anxious doggy sounds.

They'd had a quiet drink at another pub along the way and only when they'd passed a gent's outfitters for the exclusive clubs did John's mood start to they'd come back to the stone archway, John had held into Kristine's hand with a tight grip as they'd headed for the far diagonal corner of the quad. Ancient instincts, long dormant, had taken him with leaden feet to his inevitable deestiny. Once inside, his hand had slid along the oak banister rail upwards with familiar ease and had driven him to enter his bedroom where he'd half expected his possessions to reappear where he's once left them. Certainly, they had been scanty, the product of his father's hard earned wages which could never provide more than essentials. Oh yes, he knew what was coming, John hadd thought in anguish to himself. It was at this moment when the dam on his emotions which he'd pushed the back of his mind broke had suddenly broken and Kristine had come to his assistance.

"I betrayed my father," John had said at last fighting to get his words through the emotional block."My Birmingham accent marked me out from the others from the start and once I let slip that my father was a baker, that was it. I got called 'baker's boy' wherever I went and the Old Boy's Network pursued me with it even when I first became a judge. I wished that my father wasn't a baker as it made me feel ashamed. I changed my accent and dressed like them so I could blend in."

Kristine's heart had gone out to this man whose reckless defiance of authority had its seeds in this earlier trauma. She'd tell him later that she had something in common in dropping a Liverpool accent when she first went to boarding school.

"Did you love your father as a human being and wasn't he proud of your achievements?" she had asked him gently.

"Of course. He taught me everything I know, including questioning everything. He was proud of everything I did up till the day he died. My daughter Charlie thinks that I'm Spiderman."

"I haven't not got on with my father ever since my mother died and the less we see of each other the better so we can tolerate each other. He has never been remotely proud of any of my achievements, so I have given up trying to please him," Kristine had said in a slow and even pace, making sure every syllable sunk in.

Both of them had known that their mothers had died young but this had been totally new to him. This had made John look up and away from himself for the first time ever since he'd broken down. The initial shock and amazement had given way to a dawning swense of amazement at this woman's stoical strength. He had mouthed an apology but Kristine had given him a quick kiss on his lips and they had a long comforting hug together.

"I've heard a bit of student sit ins and demonstrations in the sixties. Were you involved?" Kristine asked him as the atmosphere in this room had become intimate and human.

"But of course. I found my feet after the first two terms, started growing my hair and dressing in jeans and fell in with a radical set of outcasts like myself and public school rebels. I remember the sit in well. It was exciting times, living on the edge, passionate debate about rights and wrongs and making up our own rules. I slept with quite a few women during that week. Perhaps those times never really left me and made my mark," John had said in tones of dreamy reminiscence in his faraway gaze.

"Well, there you are then. we'll go out and face this audience," Kristine had said softly. She had not been afraid to admit that perhaps she was falling in love with this complicated man and perhaps he was feeling the same. This had set her up very nicely to be at her most intellectually combative when the lights came on her mind to deliver her speech from the platform.

A patrician woman who had caught the chairwoman's eye rose languidly to her feet to be first to speak.

"Excuse me but isn't this all rather melodramatic? Everyone knows that prison reformers have been at it for decades and are entrenched in the Home Office. Prisoners have wide screen televisions and the regime is sucvh that prison officers dare not act robustly for fear of being condemned as politically incorrect."

"Everyone knows?" challenged Kristine with icy self control."I think you must be a closet Sun reader. Just because there are popular prejudices around doesn't make it accurace especially when my speciality, prison education is squeezed to the limit, something that's worth its weight in gold in stopping discharged prisoners reoffending. You add prison overcrowding into the mix and we have a premanent crisis on our hands,"

Watching Kristine's first strike with intense pleasure, John immediately recognised the second lad to speak as the obnoxious moron who he'd crossed swords with earlier on. Kristine immediately placed the voice when he started speaking.

"How on earth can you know what the inside of a prison is like? You're obviously working from a political agenda but all you're doing is working from books written by others with the same outlook," he said with scathing anger that drew a ripple of applause .

"That's a fair question," Kristine answered with misleading reasonableness."My answer is that when I studied for my MA a number of years ago, I conducted a series of interviews with a number of prisoners at HMP Nottingham and also at HMP Wandsworth. More crucially, I took part in an undercover operation at HMP Larkhall where I posed as a prisoner, just as you see me, for two weeks unknown to the prison during which I was assaulted on the last day I was there. I also keep in contact with a close friend of mine, Nikki Wade of the Howard League of Penal Reform who is the real deal ex-prisoner, having successfully won her appeal against a life sentence for taking out the policeman who would have raped her partner. This isn't just the stuff of academic dissertations but involves real people like any other in society, good bad and indifferent," Kristine responded in ringing tones which reduced the audience to silence in a shocked gasp. Some of the more sensitive souls started to question their outlook on life and especially those who were out top make sport with this blind woman.

"I suppose you think that all criminals are misunderstood victims of society," a third speaker said spitefully when John intervened. He couldn't resist it and Kristine smiled ruefully at George and Jo describing how interfering he was in court.

"I suppose there are those who are guilty of what society regards of as crimes and those who are ennobled in this 'what can we get away with' society. I think of MPs who have cheated the taxpayer and are let off with a caution and, at best, repayment of the sum obtained fraudulently," John said in languid, forceful tones. This caused a ripple of discomfort to run round the audience. This came too close to home for their liking.

"The gentleman has got it exactly right," Kristine exclaimed with great satisfaction before enlarging enthusiastically on this point. The debate was going in the direction she wanted it to go.

"Wow, that was some meeting," laughed John as he and Kristine clattered their way back up the staircase, Jules bounding excitedly against the strain of the lead that his mistress kept firmly gripped.

"I feel so good," said Kristine, affectionately rubbing the back of Jules' head and his ears and going on to squeeze John's hand. She'd got into the cut and thrust of debate and found it intensely enjoyable. She'd had the time of her life today and was on a natural high.

Once inside John's room, Kristine flopped onto the narrow single bed. John hospitably offered her a glass of dry martini which she knocked back with great satisfaction with a graceful swirl of her right arm. It looked stylish to Johgn's heightened sensibilities.

"These beds are designed to preserve one's virtue,"Kristine said with a flash of annoyance. John wasn't sure how to take this remark so he preserved a diplomatic silence.

"It's not really practical tro sleep together John but when we're back in London, I will sleep with you," she said in her direct fashion.

"Se we can have a pleasant chat and a nightcap? I'm happy to postpone our enjoyment till another night and have the pleasure of your company in different ways," John replied equably enough. Strangely enough, the evening was such that sex was only a free-floating thought amongst the closeness they'd enjoyed this day.

She kissed John. She was glad he understood.

"So what have you been doing recently, John Deed?" she asked with genuine interest.

"You might be surprised to know," he started to say in self-deprecating tones about the first thing that came to mind."I'm a volunteer maths coach to Nikki and Helen's daughter Rose. They asked me for help as she'd been got at by her maths teacher."

"That must be a new experience for you," smiled Kristine, a little taken by surprise.

"I'm really enjoying it," replied John enthusiastically."She's such an extraordinary child. She's really endearing, a great conversationalist and she has such an enquiring mind. She's her own person already. Some people spend a lifetime and never get that far."

Kristione smiled tenderly. She suspected that John was Rose's biological father yet he was graciously and unselfishly giving her a helping hand in life. Though her eyes were starting to close as exhaustion started to take over as a natural reaction to her concentrated preparation for this lecture, this knowledge was a clinching factor that prompted her to consider making an unprecedented move forward in her life.


	30. Chapter 30

Monty studied his friend John with interest as he came into the dining area of the judge's digs with a happy smile on his was a quiet tranquil evening and the atmosphere seemed right for some leisurely conversation.

"Your presence was missed last night. Vera was at her most inquisitive and I could have done without her noiasy speculations," he remarked drily.

"I apologise for not being available as a distraction but this is for your ears only. I accompanied Kristine Thorne at a lecture she delivered at Oxford and I spent last night with her as well."

"I'm impressed. You've been seeing quite a bit of her recently," Monty replied, keeping his tone light.

"I've known her on and off for years but these last few days have put things onto a different footing," John answered smiling.

"I've heard about her for some time but I've never seen her. You must introduce her to me so long as I can keep Vera away. Something tells me they wouldn't get on," Monty found himself saying and the words hung in the air. They'd never talked like this about John's conquests and John smiled gratefully at this public validation.

Coope directed one of her meaning glances at John as he strode into his chambers, still feeling bright and breezy and humming a favourite tune. This look brought him up short.

"You have something to say Coope?" he enquired.

"I have though I don't think you're going to like it," she said in her most soothing tones. That means it's really bad news, he thought as he gestured to her to continue.

"Word around the POLES- people of low esteem," Coope said carefully, alluding to the acronym that some ignorant judges like Jackson's son called personal assistants and chambers clerks," that the Attorney General is planning on a top age limit on judges to encourage a younger, more in touch judiciary- their words not mine."

John could not believe his ears and struggled to find suitable words to express his feelings. it did not cross John's mind to doubt the accuracy of the information as her sources of intelligence reached far and wide.

"How old?" he asked in choked tones.

"Sixty-two," answered Coope in the same level tones as before.

"By God, they won't be allowed to get away with this," stormed John, his face turning red with anger and his body movements turning violent." Conveniently, judges of my persuasion are the same age as me while that wretched Jackson and his clique are younger...by the way, where did your information come from if you don't mind me asking?"

"From the attorney General's PA. I'll get a photocopy of the letter which should fall off the back of a photocopier with any luck. My niece is covering for the regular PA before being moved to Aylesbury,"Coope replied serenely.

"Coope, you are outrageous," John exclaimed as the outrageous hgumour of the situation struck knew Sir alan's PA of old as a vetry starchy buttoned-up woman who no doubt had a portrait of Margaret Thatcher in her living room.

"I learnt from the master," Coope answewred with a wide grin on her face and in the tone of her voice.

With great difficulty, John restrained his impulses by starting to read through the trial papers for his next trial while Coope nipped out of the room. With a smile of satisfaction, she produced a white sheet of paper from out of a brown envelope for John's attention as if a rabbit out of a hat. With a sigh of satisfaction, John scanned it quickly and picked up the phone to make a series of phone calls. The natural interchange of conversations caused this lunchtime in joseph Channing's chambers to be pencilled in as the council of war.

"You keep your ears close to the ground in the meantime Coope," John said in easy tones. Now that the meetuing was fixed, John was easier in his mind. Everything was ready.

In the meantime, John had finished working his way through the murder trial which was nothing out of the ordinary. It enabled a portion of his mind to detach itself and mull over the issue closest to his heart.

"How come Sir Alan was so careless in leaving the letter about so that your niece could find it just when she happened to be there?" he wondered aloud

"I really don't know judge," Coope answered slowly. The thought hadn't crossed her mind.

"In the last few months, Sir Alan has gone out of his way to be conciliatory to me and disillusioned with his lot in life. A few years ago, he'd defend the establishment to his dying breath but now it isn't to his interest," John considered meditatively, speaking half to himself.

"Perhaps someone put him up to it or forced him to do it," Coope answered, breaking

into his musings.

"Then that leaves Haughton or the Prime Minister or both. In revenge for what...? The strike we organised years ago against Haughton's attempt to restrict the power of judges," John continued as he thought aloud.

"They couldn't be that vindictive," Coope answered.

"Don't you believe it. They're so used to getting their own way so that on the one occasion they don't, they hoard the grudge unto the third or fourth generations. Anyway, once more into the breach, dear friends," John concluded, his sombre mood giving way to careless satisfaction.

Once in Joseph Channing's chambers, the circle of conspirators indulged in a quick shot of malt whisky before getting down to business.

"I don't think we need to belabour the point that this vile scheme is designed to put out to pasture the legal opposition of judges in the prime of our lives to clear the way for ambitious third-raters like Jackson and his clique," Joseph Channing led off in disgusted tones to be greeted by a chorus of assent.

"but why this damnfool idea? Even by the low standards of this government, they are being spectacularly inept. Where are our replacements coming from? Straight from the Job Centre?" Monty chipped in derisively.

"Perhaps this is part of an act of government hara kiri. Let's face it, they are such a quarrelling band of cuthroats that they've lost all sense of practicality. They don't even conceal their sniping," Joseph pursued, finishing on a contemptuous note.

"You mean each other as well as the rest of the country?" interjected John mildly.

"What about Lawrence James and his sidekick, Tim Smithson? Are they a part of this farcical conspiracy? There's more than this than meets the eye. I suggest that a delegation of us confront Sir Alan at the first opportunity but not to act precipitately," Joseph Channing concluded before reaching for the phone.

So it was that the three leading lights of the brethren trooped off to the Lord Chancellor's office after securing a surprisingly early lunchtime appointment without the normal attempt to procrastinate and obstruct.

"I get the curious feeling that the revolution has taken place and nobody's told us," murmured Monty on a dreamy summer's day that added to the feelings of unreality.

"This may be an intermission before the establishment seeks to plant its foot on the country's collective neck. Let's make hay while the sun shines." John responded in darker tones.

"We shall see," Joseph concluded in determined fashion as he accosted the starchy PA in firm tones. They were the Three Musketeeers, drawing their swords once again in the name of liberty.

.

"Morning," John grinned cheekily at the startled face that appeared before him. She hadn't realised that Joseph Channing would be part of a delegation and the three men comandeered the armchairs. Meanwhile, Joseph Channing's sharp brain was analysiong Sir Alan's manner which wasn't giving much away.

"I was not aware that I'd be faced with a delegation," he said in stiff, patrician tones.

"I'll come straight to the point Alan. I have it on the best authority that plans are afoot to pension off the oldest and brightest judges. Monty and John come with me as delegates from the brethren to protest in the strongest of terms. They are also ensuring I won't do something I'd regret and you'd regret a damn sight more than me," Joseph growled, his forceful anger being directed straight for the jugular.

"Where did you get this information from?" Sir Alan asked faintly, combing his white hair back which was a sure sign of nerves. Was this man playing some kind of pantomime, the three opponents wondered but joseph patted his inside jacket meaningfully to press the point.

"So you don't deny it?" John interjected mildly. He'd been impressed by Joseph's 'take no prisoners, style and qwas happy to play backup.

Sir Alan's eyes opened wide. The game was up and he opted for the delicate gavotte of the strategic retreat.

"So if I were to consult with your delegation for your views on the matter, that might be the best way forward. It was only a draft consultation document?"

"Our answer's simple. Withdraw it utterly. We can carry as long as we see fit to do so," Joseph glared. He knew Sir Alan would blow with whichever way the prevailing wind would take him. He and his friends wwere made of sterner stuff.

At this moment, Lawrence James and Ian Smithson trooped into the crowded room and looked askance at the crowd scene. They sensed danger from the anger radiating from the judges who suspected that this precious pair of villains had a hand in this business.

"We are waiting for an answer Alan," cut in Monty."Doubtless Lawrence James and Ian Smithson would be interested that this unpleasantness doesn't spread further. We judges are dangerous men as we have demonstrated in the past."

"Oh very well. I did think the idea was foolish in the first place and the demands on the court show no signs of abating," Sir Alan snapped pettishly, feeling the iron hand of blackmail being laid across him in a cause he didn't really believe in.

"My Lord," protested Lawrence James only to be silenced by a killing glare from the trapped man. The three seated men grinned in satisfaction at the success of their commando raid.

Besides being bright and sociable with Niamh and Rose and everyone around them, Michael was asking Cassie and Roisin serious questions and the two women knew that they had to answer the questions as honestly as they could. They felt shyly proud of themselves that Michael was receptive and soaked up everything that was said. He had started reading newsdpapers and brought home a friend of his that the two women had remembered from a few years back. They knew that Michael would inevitably get into teenage courtships in the future but resolved to stick with the situation while their world had stabilized.

Suddenly, Michael started taking an intense interest in the local paper for a few minutes before discarding it with a disappointed expression on his face. On the third day, his face lit up and studied the middle pages intently. He made a desultory attempt, in Roisin's eyes, to leaf through further pages but he kept drifting back to the middle section. Finally, he left it open and strolled out into the garden with as shy backwards glance at Roisin. She put two and two together and gestured to cassie to come over. There it was, a contribution in the letters section.

"I am writing to inform you that I don't agree that children shouldn't be brought up by lesbian or gay people. My name is [name redacted] and I am a child with lesbian parents. I have got a little sister called [name redacted] for short and I have got two mums, one is called [name redacted] and the other is called [name redacted]. I have been brought up perfectly well so I don't see any point in you saying that. Me and some of my other friends agree that you can be brought up by anyone who will love you and care for you and make sure you're happy.

Yours sincerely,

Name Witheld"

When Michael came back into the living room, the two women saw his eyes were downcast which wasn't now his usual self. They sensed that he was abnormally tense and waiting

"Michael, is this your letter. If it is, it's brilliant and so brave and grown up of you," Roisin exclaimed. Niamh caught on what was going on and, after reading it, she jumped arouind the room enthusiastically. She'd become more extrovert since she and Michael had become friends again.

"You don't think it's childish and kind of naff," Michael said, looking uncomfortable as he wasn't sure he was worthy of praise. After reading it in print, he wasn't sure if it came out right even if it fwelt right as he wrote it.

"Michael, you've set yourself the difficult task in telling sad people out there who pick on those who they see as different that it's perfectly OK. You've put it that no one can seriously argue with you especially if all they can do is call yopu silly names. It's great, kid. Tell you what, we'll show this to Helen and Nikki if you want. They are kind and intelligent," Cassie said softly and kindly, her big blue eyes fixing Michael's. Sheepishly, he nodded his head.

Time crawled by infinitely painfully for Michael until Nikki and Helen popped round with Rose as they often did so these days. They wore interested smiles on their faces and swooped down on the newspaper. Both women took care to avoid breezing through the letter as they sensed the care and soul searching that went into writing this letter especially when Helen had gone through a parallel move when she'd been older than Michael now was.

"This letter is great. It's so pure and misses nothing out. I couldn't add anything to it or put it better," Nikki said, her big soulful eyes engaging with Michael's. "Me too," echoed Helen. The lad now felt a little happily silly and pleased with himself. This was what he had secretly wanted, that sense of validation in this world.

"You look out for yourself at school and afterwards. You certainly deserve to ," added Helen compassionately. He felt the weight of her concern for him but accepted it gratefully, as if from an older and wiser friend.

"If I know them, they already know about me. If I don't, it's none of their business," Michael said sturdily He reached this conclusion on his own. He's smarter than I was when I was his age, Roisin thought gratefully to himself.


	31. Chapter 31

Joseph Channing sat in his most comfortable armchair while sunlight streamed in through the sitting room window while he was surrounded by the precious artefacts of fuirniture that had been handed down through the generations. he was feeling satisfied with life, having thoroughly enjoyed his set to with Sir Alan Peasemarsh the other day. He had felt that his life was travelling into the shallow waters of purposeless living and was seriously wondering if he was losing his grip, that his faculties weren't what they had been. This victory had brought out his naturally combative nature and had reassured him that when he chose to bite, he still had mastery of the situation. He felt a warm sense of kinship with his worthy allies Monty everard and John Deed and free in his own mind. He was in the gentle afterglow of his life which still held a future for him. he'd got to a point in his life a number of years ago which was where he needed to be but certainly wasn't something he'd foreseen.

It had been too easy when he was growing up to follow the right path in life that would enable him to succeed without any great effort. He'd gone to Eton Public School, Brasenose College Oxford, Bar School and onwards and upwards through the legal profession. This path was greased by the fact that everyone he got to know had been to the same sort of school and university, including the LCD civil servants and politicians. They were all part of the same club and he never questioned the value system he was born into. His unthinking devotion to the greater good saw him elevated the the Court of Appeals and provided for a comfortable material ezxistence by and large.

The first exception to this was the emotional knock of losing his wife in a senseless car accident when she'd been driven to a weekrend to the country and he'd been weighed down with an important court case and so hadn't been with her. He'd taken a long time to get over this, even with the traditional stiff upper lip. Their adored daughter Georgia had been at public school when this had happened. She was so young at the time, preserved as an image of her at the time, fresh-faced, with a wide brimmed straw hat, with long golden hair. He'd driven up in his Rolls Royce into a foreign land that was her world, not his much as he'd been one child at eton with his contemporaries and another child when coming home from the holidays. It was the way of the world for his class. He could still remember her wrinkled frown of bewilderment when she saw him and she somehow knew there was something up. How he broke the tragic news to her, his memory was mercifully blank on the matter as the whole tragedy, an inadequate word, finally broke through. All that he knew was that, while affectionate as she was towards him in her own way, she grew a protective shell around herself and it might have explained why she became a heartbreaker when she discovered the opposite sex.

Why she chose John deed as a serious suitor was something he never understood at the time. While the man was unquestionably bright, his background was unsuitable, he was an arrogant upstart and quite unlike previous boyfriends who werew far more deferent to him and more malleable. Perhaps it was John's very badness that appealed to his daughter though he could never understand it. Sure enough, he conformed to his instincts by serially betraying her. For years, he could never forgive the man for the wrongs he'd done her, especially when he became perversely successful, a high court judge.

Looking back on these past events, it was as if he was reading a story far removed from himself, especially his former self. There was a classic confrontation between the upstart young buck and the existing older leader of the pack. He had to admit it that John had been a lot quicker than he had been in understanding the corruptiuon at the heart of the establishment as only an outsider could do. It had all centred on Neil Haughton Minister for tade and Industry and George's new boyfriend to whom John had taken a violent dislike from day one. He'd socialised with the man for George's sake though he'd never warmed to him. Only when he'd been passed over for elevation to the House of Lords had he got angry and this coincided with John telling him that he'd been used as insurance for insider share dealings from which he'd profited. He had taken a good look at his life and shifted his allegiances. At this time, Neil Haughton became Home Secretary and put himself on collision course with the brethren as traditional freedoms became encroached upon. He'd warmed to the younger man who'd been proved right all along.

Curiously enough, when George dumped Neil Haughton and tyook up with the very personable Alice Swinburne, joseph discovered a wholly unsuspected ability to go with the flow, listen to what his heart was telling him and throw off the useless lumber of thinking that had become outdated. He realised that all his career strivings had secured himself a comfortable position in life so why not enjoy what he'd got?

Most enjoyable of all was Christmas when George and Alice, John and his granddaughter Charlie came over to stay and the house which was normally quiet, resonated with the cross current of several conversations at once as part of good cheer and good fellowship. In between whiles, George and Alice visited him every Wednesday evening for a very companionable time. He could sit back, a glass of whisky at his side and enjoy the pleasure of charming female company.

"You must look after your health daddy," George chided him earlier on this evening."You need to watch out how much you eat and drink."

"Nonsence," boomed Joseph in optimistic vein."I'm as fit as a fiddle, never felt better. I certainly haven't lost my faculties."

"You're referring to your latest escapade in trouncing Sir Alan Peasemarsh in his futile attempt to retire you, Monty and John before your time. I'm absolutely sure that you were splendidly firm, daddy, and that's why you're feeling good about yourself. It doesn't mean you don't have to take care of yourself," persisted George.

"Don't worry about me. Combativeness and malt whisky is the rocket fuel; that keeps me going. You're the same as me except that your tipple is dry martini," chuckled Joseph, with a meaningful glance at her topped up glass.

"We're talking about you, not me," countered George with superb timing. While Alice could see her partner's point of view, she couldn't help smiling at the verbal sparring that she and her father inevitably reverted to as a bonding device. She could sense that this strong-willed man who had always treated her with kindness, was mulling over these matters in the depths of his alert mind.

Joseph had never thought of dying, he reflected to himself in the secret darkness of bedtime as his daughter's words had punctured the fuzzy soft feelings that accompanied a nightcap ot two with sharp edged logic. Others had died- he lived. That was all. True, he'd been putting on weight over the years and he waswn't as nimble on his feet as he once was. he'd live and live until events happened that decided otherwise. That was all. His daughter was indwependent and as near as dammit happily married as he would wish. He had done his best in securing his future. He had come to live by beliefs that ensured him a comfortable night's sleep and accepted that his ideas had been dusted down and refurbished. He was happy and all he could do right now was to keep on keeping on like he'd done throughout his life. He might ease back on the alcohol a bit as George was sure to nag him on the matter in her well-meaning fashion. He would not surrender to killjoy puritan ways like that dratted Haughton, simpering virtuously over a glass of mineral water while being prepared to sell his soul for self-advancement up the greasy pole of success.

Mel Bridges couldn't help but wonder at the way her life had changed back and forth in the last few weeks to leave her with completely changed perspectives. Initially, it had been downhill all the way.

She'd been living with the very girlish Isobel after a chance encounter in a gay pub after she'd been discharged from prison. She'd ended up in bed with her as each saw the other as an object of desire. She'd played or hung out in enough pubs when she'd played in a band but working in a pub had been new to her. Isobel ran the pub and when it came to it, Mel found out that her magic repartee, looking cool and having a deft hand serving drinks got her through a short learning , they hit it off to begin with though she had to admit that she'd never come across a woman whose voice cooed and was dressed up in her trademark unbelievable high heels and frothy black lace dress. Her battered guitar was propped up in a corner of their bedroom and remained neglected. As the weeks went on, she discovered that she was subject to unpredictable moods which were unrelated to what Mel had been doing. Another problem was when Isobel coyly suggested that they sh shopping together for a sex toy and Mel at last saw how everything had led up to this moment and she was politely unenthusiastic. This rubbed Mel up the wrong way as, though she traded on looking like a rather faded rock star, her attitude to sex was strictly the natural way. She hadn't had any complaints, let's put it this way, she thought. as time went on, tension started to build up between them, especially when Mel started to feel like an employee while ysobel lorded it over the social scene. Finally, everything blew up in screaming argument and Mel promptly decamped herself to a bedsit she'd heard of from a regular customer now that she'd found her fet. She trooped off, carrying her guitar caswe and her sackful of belongings and her final wages and thoughts of what the hell she was going to do next.

There was nothing for it, mused Mel as she woke up with a bad taste in her mouth. she stared gloomily at the dark shadows of her bedsit which had leftover wallpaper from the worse designs of abstract shapes and colours left over from the seventies. It was a big step down from the thin, tatty duvet and rumpled sheets when compared with Ysobel's ultras femiine perfumed boudoir. She had to grin and bear it as she hadn't any other choice. In fact, she had to face the repellent truth that the range of life's choices was closing down on her. She knew she had to stroll down to the local Job Centre and get her claim in while she looked around for other bar jobs. The pay was bound to be shit but they didn't ask for references or too many questions.

An hour later, she was disgustedly on the phone in a public area of the Job Centre with everyone gawping at her. She was talking to Miss Jobsworth at the call centre who asked her a series of inane questions and at the end of it, was told that everything she'd been painfully explaining would be posterd out to her in due course. There she was, some Job Adviser who could have taken a claim form off her who rules and regulations decided couldn't do this any more. she'd only do it if she brought in this customer statement with her, as if she had any frigging choice where she went to for ready money. She noticed that the place had been smartened up with some MFI furniture and yellow and green paint but had gone down the pan concerning practical details.

A few days later, she'd stretched out the money in her pocket to breaking point and had trooped off back to the said Job Centre clutching her envelope which contained a load of typewritten jargon and most of it meant sod all to her. She'd had no joy with the local pubs and had become more prickly and downhearted than before. She was desperate to be back in the swing of things and not to feel like a reject from society. All she wanted, she muttered to herself as she walked, was to know when she would be frigging well paidf. Last time when she'd done this was when the band had taken a temporary dip in gigs and it filled in their finances. Of course, she wasn't to know that the temporary upswing had been followed by a relentless slide to oblivion when she'd got into the drugs dealing game.

As Mel slouched in the formica chair, she was acutely conscious of waiting for the man to call her over for the interview as her passport for ready money. In her mind, the situation was dead simple. She was flat broke, sacked by her last boss for personal reasons and needed this benefit to pay the rentman and would take any job within reason. When at last her name was called, this basic information was stretched and complicated beyond reason. The main sticking point to this jobsworth was exactly how come she'd lost her last job.

"What I don't understand, Miss Bridges, is just why your last employer terminated your employment. Weren't you pulling your pints properly? If you lost your last employment due to misconduct or leaving voluntarily, we might not be able to pay your benefit," she chirped brightly to the increasingly wound up Mel Bridges. She was conscious that she didn't feel too clean and her hair was a mess while this other woman's dress, makeup and perfume was immaculate..

"All right,, let's put it this way," Mel replied with restrained patience in her natural middle class accent while incipient anger was threatening to burst through."I was in a lesbian relationship with the pub owner who was very girly and she took me on as she fancied a bit of the rough. She was a neurotic and became increasingly hard to live with and we split up. She wasn't going to keep me on just on the basis of my professional accomplishments so I lost my job and a roof over my head."

"So nothing in the way you performed your job got in the way of your continued employment, right?" the woman said brightly after a distinct silence during which she swallowed some inconvenient air. In this split second, Mel knew that she was in by pure blind chance. For the rest of the interview, she let everything wash over her head.

With escaping tension exuding from her every pore, she tottered away over to the job point where she scanned the various offerings. finding nothing in her line, she walked out of the Job Centre and let out deep breaths of air and pent up tension.

She leaned up against a wall and reached for her pack of cigarettes. Though prison living had stepped up her nicotine intake, she had quickly realised already that she had to eke out her limited supply but this ordeal justified a reward. She lit it and inhaled deeply before blowing out smoke. All this time, the dazzling sunlight made her feel dizzy with a sense of satisfaction.

"Mel Bridges. well i never. didn't think I'd ever catch up with you again but I'm glad to see you," said a clear voice from behind her. It swam out of her distant past and further disorientated slowly turned her head and, upson of her, hovered a vague shape providing indiostinct colours and details.

Finally, she got her vision straight. The woman was fashionably dressed with expensive boutique brown leather jacket, bright coloured trousers, high heels and carefully applied makeup. Her voice and body language started to rough in details in her memory bank. Slowly, it computed.

"If I'm not mistaken, you's my old bass player, Lorna Edwards," Mel said slowly while memories started streaming back from her unconscious. years ago, she had joined her band after Jo Mills performed with her and copped out when she took fright at her feelings for Mel. Lorna had been a straight down the line, matter of fact woman who let life in a rock and roll band take her wherever it led. She's stuck with her until the band was heading for crack up time and suddenly disappeared into the ether. Mel's eyes looked vaguely into the distance while Lorna's face fell at this apparent non recognition.

"Don't say you don't know me played together long enough.

"Of course I remember you. I was just heading off down memory train in my head, I mean memory lane," Mel replied as best as she could, trying to smile."I've known better days. I've just come out of the dole office. Perhaps that's something I'll write a song about some day,"she confessed frankly with shaky confidence.

Lorna immediately felt sorry for her old friend .Her woes were written all over her face, in her body langtuage and the beat up clothes she wore.

"If you're not doing anything else, have a meal on me as I was going to head that way. I've got some ideas," Lorna suggested in a mysterious fashion.

Mel was interested and this could get over her hyper-stressed mood earlier on. she felt a tentative connection back with her past when her dreams were still positive and hadn't been trampled into the mud. She walked off down thwe road with her friend to see where life might take her. In any case, she could do with a decent meal.

The two women strolled on down the road where a particularly pleasant cafe caught Lorna's eye. she gestured to Mel who was only too grateful for the offer. Once inside, the two women bought a latte coffee and a hot cheese and ham baguette each. To Mel's deprived palate, the hot food tasted absolutely marvellous. She was conscious that she was being paid for but she paid it no mind and they chatted away about inconsequentials. For the first time in a while, she started to feel part of the human race.

Once the bill was paid and they went out into the fresh air, they walked a little further till lorna pointed to the shiny silver streak of automobile which appeared from out of the blue. She opened the passenger door for Mel who found herself reclining back in the comfy seat and whisked off down the road. it felt like a magic carpet ride and the sadness of her city streets were left behind her. She let Lorna drive her this way and that way until with a screech of tyres, she found herself facing a slab-sided building and a front door that told her it was OK to enter. She was starting to feel good but was wondering what the passage past the receptionist held in store. Lorna pushed open the door and entered the most wonderful place imaginable, a true to life recording studio. Right in the middle of the room, Mel's tunnel vision focussed upon a plastic chair and amplifier and leaning against it was a gleaming red electric guitar side by side with a microphone stand, all hooked up to snaking cables. .

"You're giving this to me?" stammered Mel, most uncharacteristically stumbling for words.

"They're yours already Mel. Don't you recognise them. I salvaged them from the council house you lived in once. There's your bass guitar as well," Lorna said in her kind manner.

All at once, it came back to her. A long time ago, she'd moved out to the country where Jo used to live and they'd bumped into each other at the village shop and she and Jo played music together before they'd become lovers. This was in her wild and careless days of being a drugs baron and pretend musician before she'd been imprisoned. It looked as if her old friend had ideas of her going back to her roots but this time for real.


	32. Chapter 32

**"** So where do we go from here?"said Mel slowly, both looking andd feeling dazed. It was only a few minutes ago that she was struggling with the tatters of her self-respect to claim benefit to live on. She hadn't a clue where this was heading as self-doubt started to creep in. She couldn't be a solo electric guitar player and singer, could she?

"You've got two girl musicians who're dying to play with you. You're a bit of a cult figure, you and our band," Lorna said with infinite gentleness.

Mel turned around and two young women came into her sight. Her heart stopped in her mouth. They were so young, so dewy-eyed, so positive in the way they moved by comparison that she felt temporarily weary and broken down by contrast. Could she pick up where she had left off, she wondered?

"Hey, we're such fans of your music. We've listened like ages to a CD of you and the rest of the band playing live," said the dark-haired girl with heavy eye makeup in her earnest manner.

"You've got it here? When and where was it recorded as I can't remember," Mel replied, her curiosity roused. For so many years, she'd buried her memories of her rock and roll past and stuck to acoustic. It crossed her mind that she'd have to reinvent herself as she used to be if it didn't all come flooding back naturally. Lorna sensed her old bandmate worry if she could pull it off so she decided to act.

"Hey, Mel's been away from the music scene for a few years. Go get the CD and I'll play it through the studio PA."

Mel shot her a grateful look and then she waited, still slightly tense but moving up in the world. She wondered when on earth the recording had taken place. Therer had been vague stuff about signing a recording contract when the band was at its height but nothing more so this might be a bootleg. The impending surprise scared her as she feared that fond memories of the past might collide against cold reality. She selected a comfortable armchair to lay back in for protection's sake.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by muzzy confused tuning up sounds which gave way to a super confident woman shouting out the band introduction. was that really her, she wondered. In a split swecond, a a chainsaw cutting edge of violent guitar rumbling bass and thundering drums lwed into a glorious rock and roll belter of a song. as the concert unrolled into the rest of the concert, curious dissociated feelings started to buzz around in her head. She loved the music for sure and it became increasingly familiar but was it still hers? As the applause faded away at the end of the concert, Lorna was happy in her new role as background record producer and she looked upon her old friend with sympathetic understanding of her mixture of fears and desires which battled it out for dominance of Mel's soul.

"I guess you'd feel more comfortable with your guitar in your hands Mel," she suggested solicitously, noting how all this time Mel had held back from doing just that.

Mel stared wide-eyed at the psychically terrifying distance between herself and her dreams as if she wasn't worthy of the best birthday present of her life. She became short of breath as she hesitated to make that first step. Wasn't this just as she aslways was when she hit a life-changing fork in the road even though she covered it up with bravado? Fuck it, she muttered under her breath and she edged closer to the guitar, her guitar and sat down on the chair. An enormous thrill ran through her as her left hand gripped the slim fretboard, the guitar strap lay across her shoulder and back and the solid red plastic centre lay across her thigh. All at once, she felt a curious sense of calm and felt at home within her skin, remembering that years of tinkling her acoustic guitar in Larkhall Prison was but a stopgap. This was the real thing, she thought as she stood up and blasted out the first chords of the song that came to mind from the CD and got into the rhythm. Distant memories pulled themselves out of her unconscious as she moved closer to the microphone and launched into the song with crazily amplified loudness. This was the life and, suddenly, out of nowhere, a line of bass guitar expertly implanted itself into the depths of the song. Mel looked round with surprised pleasure to see that the shy kid who'd first greeted her was playing expertly besides her. It couldn't be, she thought, as a series of rhythmic crashesc announced that the second girl had got behind her drum kit and was happily flailing away. With a happy grin, Mel rode the soing home and felt like a kid at her very best birthday party as she propelled herself and her friends, new and old, into the future they were destined for.

The dining room table at Nikki and Helen's flat was transformed into an overabundant display of children's party food for Rose's eighth birthday. Her mothers had slaved away generously to produce all these delicacies and to cram in every inch of spare space now that their fridge had been halfway emptied. they straightened their backs and mopped their brows and both grinned at the humour of the situation, given the guest invitation list. Only Rose could have thought of this, they considered fondly.

Her best friend Emma was an obvious top of her list, written in her firm hand on a sheet of best pink writing paper. Michael and Niamh were natural second and third in the list and, interestingly enough in his mothers' eyes, Michael accepted the invitation with a 'lead me to it' blithe acceptance and no surly adolescent scorn of a kids birthday party. A couple of girls in Rose's form were invited partly because they like Rose, didn't get mainstream social acceptance but functioned precariously on its fringes. After this, Rose's individuality came to the surface as Cassie and Roisin found themselves on the list not out of duty but because she specifically wanted them to be there. Her uncle John and grandparents were on the wish list and Nikki and Helen carelessly assumed thought that their dutiful daughter had been sure to consider family obligations. They blinked and had second thoughts when Rose added their friends and they realised that they'd all childminded for her at one point or another and Rose had liked them all. The penny dropped when she realised that Rose regarded them all as her friends.

"But what are we coming to Rose's birthday party as? I mean all the gang from Chix have been invited," asked Alice in a tone of utter bewilderment when she found out who had been invited.

"I think we should wait and see," grinned George. She'd taken to this little girl as soon as she'd met her, her wilfulness appealing to her own tendencies."We shouldn't worry about how gay we're coming over. We're going to a child's birthday party and should go with the flow."

"I don't understand what's going to happen. This is unfamiliar territory to me," pursued Alice, still dubious about the whole undertaking.

"We should trust to the remarkably inventive little girl who sent out the invitations. I'm sure she has her own ideas," George replied, carefully studying the colourful standard invitation letter with its innocent illustrations.

"So what shall we wear?" Alice answered at last after mulling over her partner's observations at length.

"I'm wearing what I used to wear for my daughter Charlie's birthday parties when she was little. Loose fitting trousers, lowish heels and my best top so I'm not too dull and boring. I'm just being practical. I shall of course overcompensate outrageously next time we go to Chix," George answered mischievously with an underlying seriousness. She knew that Karen and Jo Mills had been thinking along parallel lines from their greater experience with the children and suspected the others would follow suit.

"It feels wierd to be going out this early," commented Beth, conscious of the unnaccustomed sunshine. she was made up to the nines as usual and wearing a smart pair of jeans as she slid into the driver's seat.

"At least we don't have to think about how much we're drinking. It'll be diet coke or orange squash," grinned Karen, her fine blond hair blowing in the wind as she shut the passenger door and put on her seat belt.

As John Deed selected a casual open necked red shirt, his thoughts were working overtime. He'd heard with interest that the gang from Chix would be there and this brought back warm memories of their shared past. He'd thoroughly enjoyed his tutoring sessions with Rose as she'd been quick off the mark once she'd unscrambled her thoughts. He was worrying that she'd fade out of his life once his mission was done. He didn't want this to happen and had had a good look at himself and was sure that his motives for this were disinterested.

Cassie and Roisin were floating in a large bubble of joy as Michael and Niamh cheerfully got themselves ready. Somehow, going to the party was a large step outside their normal routine even if they were only moving next door.

Rose had woken up instantly on her special day. Eight is more than seven, she reasoned though she didn't feel that overnight, she'd clicked onwards to become one year older than yesterday. She knew that her mummies were sure to make today special and it wasn't just about getting presents. Sure enough, they came cavorting into her bedroom loudly singing 'happy birthday' and finally, giving renditions into each ear and kissing her on each cheek. she squealed with pleasure, took each mum by the hand who swung her up off the ground and out to the living room. right in front of her were two carefully wrapped up shapes in totally mad colours. After Rose had feverishly unwrapped the parcels, she was delighted to find a painting kit and a book, both items which she'd happened to mention. It was exactly what she wanted and worth more than the expensive presents her unfavourite form contempories bragged about. She knew that her mummies weren't buying her love but gave it in spadefuls all through the year.

"Do not have an attack of the munchies and start nibbling the party food. I have radar eyes Rose," Helen told her sternly as she saw their daughter start sniffing at the part food smells that wafted through. Despite Rose's 'butter wouldn't melt in her mouth' expression, both women knew that she was easily tempted.

"So we've got to starve mums. You know you always make too much food," she retorted with impeccable logic.

"It's better to be safe than sorry," Helen answered, highly aware of the excruciatingly chiched platitude before selecting a default position."Besides, if you are right, we'll all be able to finish up the left overs."

"Now look here mums. As soon as the door bell, I'll greet my guests and show them through and you act like mums normally do," Rose declared with more force than she intended.

"Ay aye madam," Nikki retorted straight faced, peeling off a slight parody of a military salute."We know our places when your friends arive."

Nikki's droll manner made Rose burst into helpless laughter. She couldn't resist this brand of humour and she knew she'd been over the top.

"You dion't have to be nervous Rose. Just relax and we'll all muck in. Everything will be all right," Helen added in her gentle manner. She drew the little girl into a gentle hug. They'd all got over this attack of nerves and everything was as ready as it could possibly be.

Soon, the first ring on the bell announced the first guests and Rose nipped forward in her best party dress and polite voice. To her pleasant surprise, Trisha and Sally-Anne were smiling down on her, holding a couple of presents.

"We wouldn't miss this for the world Rose. We had great fun when we met last time," Trisha replied with a grin on her face. This cheered Rose right up as she knew these two women were perfectly sincere. In a curiously adult fashion, she welcomed her guests through to be presented to Nikki and Helen. This started off a stream of guests as cars started to line the streets, including Cassie and Roisin, Michael and Niamh, her school friends, and finally her uncle and her tutor. and Mrs Wade found themswelves warmly greeted by their remarkably self-confident granddaughter Rose and escorted into a group of friends of their daughtwer and Helen and a smattering of schoolgirls.

"They're all my friends. I like them so I invited them,"Rose said, divining the meaning behind their puzzled expressions.

"We are. You know that Rose has her ideas about doing things," Wade, grinning all over her face. After a rather melancoly morning's waking up, he'd cheered right at once, they were all gathered together in the cramped space of the living room either sitting or standing and, as she looked around her, the obvious thought came to mind.

"Hey, how come you're dressed for the outside?" she asked in all innocence.

"Because we know enough of you, Rose, to know you've got plans in store for us. After all, it's your special day," Trisha replied smartly, grinning all over her face.

Inwardly, Rose confessed to herself that she'd been so focussed on greeting her guests that she hadn't planned anything. She'd got a much bigger gtroup than she was used to but, hey her mind was starting to turn over ideas.

"Perhaps your friends could give you your birthday presents while you get things properly worked out," suggested Helen helpfully, reading her daughter's muind like a book.

"Oh yeah, great. Hey that's a good idea," the little girl said in a disconnected fashion that amused Emma in her kind-hearted fashion. Neither she nor the other schoolgirls had ever before seen their friend at a loss for words.

Suddenly, some simple fun dance sequence from school jumped into her mind. She'd been told it was a traditional thing so perhaps the grownups knew it already. There was a problem of differing heights but she figured they'd get their way through it somehow. All this happened in seconds while she saw the crowd looking expectantly at her for a lead when her gaze went temporarily blank. She realised that they were only waiting to give her bithday presents and Rose returned to the present.

"I'm really sorry. I was only thinking," she said, a little flustered.

"No harm done Rose darling," Nikki said in her calming fashion."Being your mums, we're first in line when you're ready."

Rose looked up at the two kindly women smiling down on her that had only meant the best for her as they held their wrapped up presents. Nikki's rectangular shape was first which she tore open and there it was, a mystical fairy story with gorgeous illustrations that she'd vaguely heard of. When she opened Helen's present, her mouth opened as she beheld a beautiful pink dress with white lace. It was then that she saw Trisha next in line and others behind her. She couldn't believe her eyes and ears as a fantastic birthday party unfolded before her very eyes. Friend after friend moved forward and gave of herself all her love as embodied in the present and her presence and she loved

it all. Finally, John Deed modestly appeared out of nowhere after her uncle John and glanced shyly at her as her sudden perception registered.

"I hope you like this Rose. I made a blind guess and I hope I haven't made a mistake," he said softly, holding a parcel that was very obviously a book.

Rose's curiosity was aroused as she wondered what surprise this interesting man had in store. To her intense joy and pleasure, it was a copy of "The Hobbit" with a really vivid front page illustration on it.

"Hey, that's so cool, John. It really is exactly what I want. Don't think that it's just a boy's book. Can you write something in it?" she said, her eyes aglow. Smiling, John made a personal inscription in it.

"I'm really glad you like it, Rose. It's sheer luck that I got it right," he said, ending his signature with a flourish.

"You just knew John," Rose said, looking at him directly."...hey Emma, don't worry. I've got it all figured out. we'll do that fun dance we learned the other day."

John marvelled how his young friend could switch conversations with such ease. he watched from afar as they put their heads together much as his daughter Charlie used to do years ago. The other schoolgirls sennsed the way the wind was blowing and they all started chattering together.

"Silence everybody," Rose called out in an unusually carrying tone of voice as the grownups started to chat amongst themselves. She then reeled off an explanation of what she intended them to do.

"We can't possibly do this indoors," interjected Helen firmly, injecting a note of realism.

"So what about outside if you guys don't mind. The pavement's wide enough," intervened Nikki in a calm, reasonable tone of voice."I'm up for it for one."

To Rose's delight at her lovely mums, this sparked off a ripple of approval to run round the room. Now she knew why her grown up friends were dressed the way they were.

"I'm into this. I remember playing this when I was a schoolkid," Trisha said cheerily and George and Jane surprised the children by echoing similar experiences. Things were looking up, Emma and Rose thought, nudging each other with great satisfaction.

"I hate to say this but this is all new to me and probably John and Michael as well," John Wade said, trying not to be too much of a wet blanket.

"It's all right, you guys. We'll take it dead slow to begin with and if you stay at the back, you can follow what we're doing. So don't you get too impatient girls," Nikki said in her kindest fashion, hoping that her brother wouldn't suddenly feel stiff and awkward. She was on their side, shje was trying to convey.

"And later on, after we've had a good time, there's plenty of party food. I'm leading the way," added Helen cheerily, pleasing her daughter and her schoolfriends with her positive encouragement. .

"I'm not sure we're up to this Rose. The spirit is willing but we don't want to crock ourselves up and regret a moment's impulse," Mr Wade intervened as the excited crowd poured into the street.

"We'll be quite as much part of this if we're spectators. The front wall would be ideal to sit on," added Mrs Wade. Instantly, Nikki nipped back to fetch a couple of cushions and she delightedly joined the enthusiastic crowd.

"Oh wow," exclaimed a tired and happy Emma as she, Rose, their school friends and Niamh and Michael occupied every spare inch of her bed. "This is the best birthday party ever."

"I don't get to many. Like the rest of you guys, I always get left out," came a slightly disconsolate contribution. She hadn't been that close to Rose and Emma up till now but this day had changed things. She'd been so shy she'd almost chickened out.

"Who cares what the most socially accepted in guys feel at their exclusive parties? This is the most fun party ever and all your mums' friends, our friends are so so cool," put in Michael. This day had loosened him up so much so anything is possible.

"We'll keep it our secret. Like we don't have to brag about it. Like the other guys at the party, we make up our own rules so long as nobody gets hurt," Rose replied with great satisfaction

*****.

"Well, that's the most unusual children's birthday party I've even been to," Mr Wade said with masterly understatement while his wife turned her hand to making cups of tea for them all as Helen and Nikki were clearly happily exhausted. The way he held his video camera expressed his great satisfaction, having sneaked it from his car while children of all ages happily cavorted about.

"Well, you know Rose. She'll always do things just that bit different from others," replied Nikki with a barely concealed grin, gratefully acceptring a cup of tea for her parched throat. An image permanently etched in her mind were the very sophisticated George and Alice giggling like two schoolgirls and letting their hair down in both senses of the term.

"That remind me Nicola. I'm not entirely happy about Rose going on your Pride event," her father replied.

Nikki restrained herself from jumping down her father's throat and, in the interval, Helen stepped in.

"It's partly Rose's idea. She's been getting some stick at school which she sorted out with my help. Those school friends she has aren't fair weather friends and we're added to the list. Niamh came up with the slogan, 'Proud of our mum's pride' which they're stencilling on T shirts. We did a lot of soul searching about possibly inflicting our troubles onto our children that didn't need to be but that very neat twist in meaning says it all.

"We're in the same boat," intervened Cassie, feeling a glorious sense of satisfied tiredness in her bones.

"I suppose that settles it. We'll support you all in spirit from leafy suburbia," Mr Wade

pronounced with a smile on his face as a toast to their future. He and his wife felt happy to be surrounded by his family and friends.


	33. Chapter 33

While all was jollity and happiness in Helen and Nikki's flat, Neil Haughton was buried in the shiny plastic surroundings of his bijou dwelling that all the smart people of his kind had acquired. It was sealed off in its own private road so that no interlopers could intrude. He had moved there after he's separated from George and contacts in the business had tipped him off early before it had gone publicly on the market. He lay back in his armchair in front of the wide screen TV screen which was beaming forth electronic messages which were walled off by his deep depression and growing sense of panic. He hadn't had a good day at work and being at home with nowhere to go didn't help him any..

It was obvious that the government was steadily sinking into the political sunset into a world of dark oblivion as it saw political defeat staring it into its face. He also felt powerless to stop it and blocked from talking properly about it. He was afraid that if he spoke up, he'd be spewing his guts up emotionally speaking and, in such a state of lack of self control, who knows what he'd end up saying? He suspected that others felt the same way and weren't any more comfortable than he was but the same blank faces and smart suits gave nothing away. The only faint hope that buoyed him up was that the general public viewed the opposition of the nasty party of years ago when it last held power.

Certainly, he didn't feel positive when he entered No 10 for cabinet meetings. The Prime Minister was still there, still holding on despite himself. Though his craggy features and malevolent stare still had power, he was a burnt out shell, going through the motions and coming off worst against the steely voiced new leader of the opposition. They periodically bickered over the matters on the agenda but not in the life or death way that the warring and competing way that their egos had once clashed. Each of them had the sneaking feeling of the unreality of their projects and that advancing time was now their worst enemies. At the end of this particular meeting, they each stared into space instead of treading their way purposefully back to their ministries to put them on message. Finally, they all dispersed in dribs and drabs. They'd heard what they were supposed to be agreeing to what they'd been deliberating but this time they were unconvinced of the particular spin on events they'd been accustomed to believe in. In avoiding each other's eyes, they suspected that they were dead men walking more than ever before.

He had been so fired up with enthusiasm when he'd been appointed Home Secretary which, in the unspoken pecking order of ministers, was a step up the laqdder. He'd supposed that he'd been given the job becauswe of his special talents which, when he came to reflect on it, included tenaciouas vindictiveness. The thought rather appealed to him as he'd certainly demonstrated as Minister for Trade and Industry a natural rapport with thrusting entrepreneurs. He'd previously built up a tidy pile in advertising before he entered politics so he was their natural man on the inside. Oh yes, he'd had so many hopes and dreams when he'd ascended the dizzy heights of politics. A sharp headache ereminded him how he didn't want to know how his bitterest enemy and nemesis, John Deed had conspired to thwart his purposes. He didn't want to think how his consort, George Channing, started having puculiar ideas of her own and had upped and left him.

Maybe he was just unlucky or rather that he'd run short of luck just when Deed had crossed his path. His failures weren't down to any fault in himself. It was just that he wasn't being dealt the winning cards when he'd needed them. So all his fellow ministers were all the same including the Prime Minister. The fates were against him and all the rest of them. And now, he had his third General Election to contend with.

"You still here?" queried a Scottish inflected accent with a laugh that really wasn't one."You single men have got homes to go to same as the rest of us."

"Keen to the last," Neil Haughton replied with an attempt at enthusiasm to the Prime Minister. He'd been in an aimless daydream till he'd been interrupted.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad of your devotion to the cause," boomed the other man in portentious tones. He was lying twice over, firstly in alluding to principles he'd long forsaken and secondly as he despised Haughton for his oily opportunism.

As Neil Haughton took his leave and descended the wide staircase, he glanced at the photographic portraits on the walls. This present Prime Minister glowered back at him in the end of the line but space was left for his successors. Treading down two steps and the youthful visionary who swept the Labour Party into power smiled down at him with all his white teeth and blue eyes and had eased his own political ascent. Down two steps further, he faced his prececessor, an old Tory Party codger who had limped his way to his own political extinction. Another two steps down, he faced the predecessor, the blond coiffed hair and gaze who stared sternly back at him, the Iron Lady, whose drive and energy he had secretly admired. He didn't bother looking further as past prime ministers disappeared into the haze of the past.

Finally, Nel Haughton made his exit into London's famous street, past the iron security guards and into the ministerial limousine that took him on his uncertain way back to the massive, all-embracing edifice of the Home Office. This caused conflicting and colliding emotions to rise to the surface than restoring his sense of self-worth.

His natural instinct when Percy Thrower, his large Secretasry of State came into his office was to run through the key messages that had been emphasised by the cohort of the dominant ministers who followed the Prime Minister's lead. This time, he rattled on about trivial matters before coming to the one important message that came to mind. The Prime Minister would declare the date of the general election and appear on prime time BBC news. As he relayed this news, he noticed a barely perceptible change of expression pass across the other man's face.

"I suppose you'll be back on the campaign trail in the near future. We'll hold the fort in the time being," he said in his smooth bland voice.

Neil Haughton peered round him suspiciously. This wasn't the first General Election he'd fought as a minister. He remembered the last two occasions as being a tiring but ibnvigorating interlude during which he'd done his share of TV interviews, addressing set piece meetings of the party faithful which all boosted his self esteem no end. He also had to turn on the charm onto his local constituency party, shake hands, kiss the proverbial baby and pose for photographs for the local rag. After all, he'd worked in advertising and all this involved selling himself so this wasn't a great stretch. He remembered how positive and energised he'd been over such a terribly important political milestone in the party's life. Now he felt old and tired before his time and headed for a slow motion fall along with the others and the Prime Minister. Worst of all, he felt his will paralysed to do anything about it.

"That will be all," he finally said. The other man's cynical appraising expression had noticed how Haughton's eyes had momentarily glazed over before wrapping up the meeting. As Percy Thrower heaved his bulk to his feet and went out the door, Neil Haughton felt as if the page of history was about to turn. It was not a good feeling.

In a subdued mood, Neil Haughton made his way to the basement car park to where his chauffeur awaited him with his shiny black limousine. He heaved a breath of relief when this small piece of normality came into view as he's arrived here and departed a million times before. It was a satisfyingly normal routine in his life denoting anticipation and fulfilment in his busy, purposeful of the blue, a freak, undiscliplined thought wormed its way through his strong defences. What if the days of chauffeur driven state limousines are coming to an end along with his accumulated power and prestige? In desperastion, he thought of the comfortable majority at the last general election to give him comfort. surely it was safe and secure enough. He'd been headhunted for this safe seat thanks to him being recognised as a safe pair of hands and his past entrepreneurial flair and experience. Surely he could secure his seat if he put in a modicum of effort, he reasoned to himself. Yes, but that didn't stop him becoming the Shadow Home Secretary and losing all his perks and privileges if enough of the other MPs didn't hold their seats. It was then that his depression turned into real blind panic of the prospect of being reduced to a shadow, of losing what he most greatly prized in life, of a substantial slice of his very identity.

It was just at this moment when the limousine was at the top of the incline from the basement car park that he was hit by a split second flash memory of a past nightmare. It was the moment years ago when Deed had shouted at him contemptuously that day he'd led a disgraceful judges strike and had twarted his plans to limit the power of judges.

"Driver, drive on," he called out in a tone of voice that sounded to him a little unhinged.

"Beg your pardon but I can't do it. The traffic's solid," the driver answered with more patience than he felt. All the pool drivers knew that Haughton was a bloody tyrant with not a speck of consideration. He certainly was an unfriendly sod who wouldn't pass the time of the day as some of the others did. It wasn't worth the hassle to play silly buggers as the guy was obviously stressed up and had a reputation of being vindictive when crossed. Fortunately, he saw a gap in the traffic and screeched away faster than he thought possible.

"We'll soon get you home. I suppose you're used to a busy life," he explained, meaning that he couldn't wait to dump the guy off as soon as was possible. Straightening himself, Neil Haughton reckoned that this suited his purposes even if this driver drove faster than he was accustomed to. Aside from thisw awareness, , he sunk into a depressive haze for the rest of the journey until he arrived at his destination.

He looked around his living room without any great enthusiasm. He'd had it especially furnished and decorated with clinical, clean precision with everything in its place as befitting a well-to-do batchelor. He'd liked the way it had turned out but he was always either engrossed with his ministerial papers or else passing through before going out to meet Important People in classy restaurants. He'd never sought them out being at the centre of the political hub but he noticed recently that somehow his evening appointments had started to dwindle.

After he'd eaten an uninspiring takeway meal, it crossed his mind to look at the sixc o clock news as, after all, he didn't have much else to do. He helped himself to a glass of orange juice, clicked on his TV remote control just as there appeared the opening stacatto music and images of a vast TV newsroom with electronic tendrils reaching out towards the rest of the world. Sure enough, a grey haired sage announced the general election and the camera panned to another studio where the Prime Minister mouthed the preprepared statement, batted off some standard questions in emotionless tones and trhat was all. There was no feelings of triumph, no feelings at all and just a sense of inevitability.

It was then that Neil Haughton slipped further into a morose inner silence as his thoughts churned around with no purpose and the TV screen played away to a zombie at its command. In a way, he was comfortably numb. Short of taking to drink, he had nowhere else to go.

.

The very same news broadcast headlines was interrupted by a burst of derisive laughter from George Channing after she'd unveiled her lastest culinary triumph on the dining room table. Alice had her back to the TV screen and was slow in figuring out the reasons for her partner's hilarity especially as cooking odours claimed her attention. When both women got home, they could be tenderly romantic or sparklingly light-hearted according to their moods.

"You're wondering what's amusing me darling?" she gently chided the dark-haired woman.

.

"I'm not the best multi-tasker around especially when your cooking gets my attention," came the wryly humorous reply.

"There's going to be a general election," grinned George, oblivious to the Prime Minister's portentiously worded explanations in the interview.

"You can't be serious. My favourite TV programmes suchj as they are are going to be elbowed aside for a bunch of self-important men to prattle abouty nothing in particular. They're alol a load of greasy second hand car salesmen in any case. What have they got to do with us and our lives anyway," replied Alice with some heat.

"That may be true but it means that that fearful ex partner of mine is going to be out of his ministerial office and, with any hope, out of a job as well," George said gleefully.

"You don't mean you'll vote for Mr Hug a Hoodie? I mean that's so fake and everything else about him," replied Alice incredulously. This was the first time George had indicated her political inclinations.

"It all depends on which lot I least despise. On second thoughts, I may forego personal cast my solitary vote and help save his skin but there again I might not," George replied in her teasing fashion, while letting the meal cool a little.

"I can't even begin to guess," Alice retorted with a hint of mischief. This playful banter was a periodic part of their life together as she headed off George from enveigling her into a guessing game.

"We don't watch any programmes about the general election, especially party political broadcasts. They're all so boring and so fake. Now let's eat," George finished in her most amusingly domineering tones and clicking the TV off with the remote control.

An hour later, they'd loaded up the dishwasher and tidied everything away so they could settle down for the evening. They savoured the taste of the satisfying meal and cuddled up close together in the settee. Alice felt nice and contented and thought tenderly of her lover and gifted partner in their lives.

"This is the life," Alice proclaimed as she elegantly raised her glass of wine.

"I take it you haven't got any work to catch up with? Good as neither have I," purred George as she raised her glass of Martini dry skywards in a toast to their future. The lights were turned down low and cast an intimate glow on the furnishings which were classy but decorative.

"It's good that so many of us are here with our partners for the long haul," Alice said dreamily as her thoughts floated this way and that. Softly stroking her partner's free hand with her own long shapely fingers helped direct that train of thought.

"I talked to John the other day and I get the feeling thet even he's thinking of settling down. Kristine Thorne is a remarkable woman and not known for long term committments and so is John. That's why they're suited," George said with satisfaction and emptied her glass.

"You've been doing a bit of matchmaking? That's very romantic," teased Alice.

"Not in the slightest. No one could mould such two hardy individualists, not even me. You know that it took a long time for John and I to become friends and get over the anger I felt at his serial womanising. I'm glad he's getting over his loneliness and coming home at last. They'll get to the position the rest of us are in," George said in soft even tones, finally turning to face her partner with a soft smile on her face.

"So we've got the London Pride to look forward to. I've been on it for years but never as part of a group like this. I'm so excited by the thought," Alice said, her face aglow.

"That's good. There's something else that's tickling my fancy," George said seductively as she lissed the other woman full on her lips and ran her hand up the inside of the dark haired woman's trouser leg. Alice returned the kiss and slipped her hand inside George's skirt and the two women started to twine together as their desires started to rise up within them.


	34. Chapter 34

"Hi John, it's Kristine. Fancy coming round tonight for your favourite meal?" she said in her warm and friendly manner to John who was in his chambers for the lunchtime break.

"I couldn't ask for anything better. You have saved me from toenail pie at the digs. That and Vera Everard are too much to bear."

"You mean she's for starters? I hardly thought I'd be considered just as a superior restaurant," came the spirited reply.

John burst out laughing at the droll line of thought. Kristine had the infallible knack of cheering him up even though he was enjoying seeing George's handiwork on the trial he was presiding over.

"Not by a mile or so Kristine. The pleasure of your company is the best part of your offer. I'd love to come. You tell me when you're ready and I'll be there," John said without a trace of artifice in his voice. Behind him, Coope smiled benevolently at the woman who was clearly a good influence on his life.

George was in a particularly good mood when she arrived back home with Alice as she'd just concluded a very satisfactory court case. She'd easily run rings round her opposite number, Neumann Mason-Alan and his prosecutuion brief. as was now her habit, she passed by John's chambers and let herself in. It never failed to amuse her that her reputation was such that the hounds of the LCD never thought to pursue her over this.

"Want a drink George," he offered generously while he was by the drinks cabinet and she'd plonked herself down on his settee. He placed a glass of dry Martini in her hand.

"I'm always glad to chat with you George but I'm afraid I won't be able to stay that long," he added politely enough. George took this in good spirit as her sharp eyes had spotted his restless manner and heightened state of mind.

"You've got a date John. Who with if I might enquire?" she asked with a smile, her curiosity aroused.

"Kristine Thorne of course. I see a lot of her these days," he said with pretended nonchalence which George saw through straightaway.

"You will of course let me know of any developments in this respect. I have your welfare at heart and hers of course," she retorted with charming insistence and a knowing look on her face. John was always consistently masterful in court but he was on sparkling form today. He knew she had tender disinterested affection for him and that she knew how depressed he'd been a few months ago.

"You give Alice my best wishes. even from a distance, I can see that she's been good for you," John finally said after they'd chatted awhile and George stood up to be ready to make a move. Touched by John's generosity of spirit, George kissed John lightly on his cheek and made her exit.

John smiled to himself as his friend's warm encouragement boded well for this evening. Things had progressed by slow, imperceptible degrees so she was becoming an important part of his life. His earlier depression some months back signified loud and clear that a lifestyle of successive casual affairs didn't work for him anymore. The final clinching event was their memorably exhilerating trip to Oxford where they'd banished their own internal demons together and acted luike the Two Musketeers in confronting the forces of privilege. He vividly recalled the morning after they'd got back to London and he and Kristine slept together how he woke up feeling warmly affectionate and grateful for his friend for being there..

As he buttoned up his favourite shirt in his room in the judges' digs, he wondered what Kristine was thinking at that moment. She was a complex intelligent woman who had kept him fascinated all this time as she was so individual.

Kristine was taking a shower at home before getting ready for her date with John tonight. She'd wasn't sure if it was the cleansing and purifying rush of water or being in a place that made her focus in on herself but somehow, she'd found that her best thinking took place in this situation.

At this moment, her thoughts turned to John not surprisingly. She knew what she wanted after the spectacularly successful excursion to Oxford and his help in overcoming the forces of reaction in the student union audience. She hadn't known such strong and sympathetic support before yet John had also revealed vulnerabilities that she was sure rarely saw the light of day. All this meant that she found it a long and easay mental stretch to change her habits of a lifetime. Long ago, she'd vowed to herself never to tie herself down to any one partner and, since her student days, that had expanded to include women as well as men. her progression from then on depended on just how her fancy took her.

The real problem was the way each of them had acted in the past even if they'd not spoken about it to any extent. When they first got to know each other, their most striking similarity was that they didn't commit to monogomous relationships. It ensured that each of them didn't raise an eyebrow when the other alluded to other relationships unlike what John had told her of his tortuous relationship with Jo talking about it, it so happened that they'd come to spend a lot more time together than in the past.

In the past, she'd always adopted a casual approach to her various partners, either happening to meet someplace or else some impulse had prompted one or either of them to phone up out of the blue for some assignation. The last time this had happened was a long time back and it was Frances Myers since when there had been silence. Slowly, over a long period of time, she came to realise that she wasn't greatly bothered about this situation and it was because she'd found the one human being who was her equal and matched her needs.

It was obvious to her that they genuinely liked each other's company and they never failed to spark interesting debates, both being pretty combative. It crossed her mind that John paid her the greatest compliment in not thinking about her being disabled in any way except for graciously offering help when requested in telling which tin was which when she was cooking. She'd also been sympathetically granted rare admission beyond the surface personality that he'd adopted to display vulnerability. why she might even confess to one or two of her own psychic scars, something that had been a strict no no up till now for any of her past partners and the stray thought made her smile to herself.

As she ended up washing her hair, she reflected that the logical consequence was that they ought to get married. Finally, she turned off the shower and reached for her towel and considered that this idea wasn't too shocking, least of all for herself as her next task was to select her outfit for tonight. She definitely favoured her latest acquisition, a. long but slightly floaty black skirt with cream spots, and a long tunic-style black top.

It wasn't until she was starting to prepare the meal when a stray thought suddenly crossed her mind and she was annoyed that she hadn't thought of it earlier. She realised that she had been unconsciously thinking in traditional terms and had vaguely supposed that it would be up to John to propose to her. It needn't be this way, she suddenly exclaimed to herself, causing Jules to prick up his ears. Hitherto, he'd been very patient while his mistress was in the shower. He let the moment pass as unless he was mistaken, he could smell cooking in the offing. Meanwhile, Kristine sang to herself as she continued, feeling pleased with herself that she lived up to her credo that there was more than one way in life to live it.

All at once, an image jumped into her mind of hetrself down on one knee and asking for his hand in marriage. Verty unusually, she wasn't sure how to consider this thought as it seemed bizarre and novel both at the same time. She mulled the idea over in her mind and decided that she needn't stick to the specifics but it left openm various possibilities of the way this end could be achieved. She carried on cooking all the while and decided to make this meal a special concoction.

Jules was wagging his tail and trotting round in circles as he sensed that there was something afoot.

"Everything's all right, Mister Man," Karen said to him in musically bright tones, something that only dogs could perceive with his highly attuned thinking. He suspected that there would shortly be a temporary addition to his pack and this was a welcome event.

John was whizzing through the streets in his convertible car. He'd originally considered ordering a bouquet of flowers from a local florist but he realised to his mild surprise that the idea was redundant. There weren't many occasions when Kristine's blindness impinged upon him and, more often than not, her sharp awareness kept him on his toes and was an essential part of their easy intimacy. He felt a little nervous that he was without such a conventional prop but he finally resolved this conundrum that he would bring nothing with him but himself. This thought made him feel happy.

When he finally arrived at Kristine's flat, she sensed him fill the space uncovered by her open front door and he sensed that there was more to the affectionate kiss that greeted him or was that his heightened imaginationKristine felt especially attuned to the nuances in his voice, more so than was usual. Jules was equally pleased to greet John and this gave Kristine a pleasurable sense of slid off to give the dinner its final touches and her grace of movement made a particular impression on John. Everything felt right.

Instead of the usual convivial conversation over a splendid dinner that accompanied their trysts, their conversation was curiously desultory. It didn't stop them chatting about this and that. Still, they enjoyed each other's company and smiled at each other. John did the honours and poured out drinks, his usual whisky and her dry Martini.

"Here's to the future Kristine," he said without really thinking about it. Kristine caught her breath as she sensed a moment of destiny if she cared to shape it.

"So is the future our future?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course if we wish it," John said smoothly concealing his mild surprise but letting the conversation take its natural course. This is leading somewhere, he thought.

""Well I want it very much John," she replied with firm certainty after a pause while she thought she was jumping into the water.

"I'm not going anywhere, I don't see the point of impermanence any more. I haven't felt like that for quite some time," John said with deliberate intent.

This was the moment of decision, Kristine thought, her heart thumping. She could let this conversation fizzle out to nothingness and regret it or take that final step. What tipped her over the edge to speak her mind was that the atmosphere felt right.

"John Deed, what I really want most of all was to ask for your hand in marriage," she said clearly, immediately feeling foolish as the pattern of old=fashioned phrases leapt out of her subconscious straight into speech without any filtering."I mean, I want us to get married. One of us had to make the first move so it might as well be me as anyone," she found herself saying. She sounded as if she were babbling, something hideously untypical for her.

Immediately, John saw that the next move was down to him. He slipped round the table and kissed this remarkable woman who he realised was the dearest creature in the world to him.

"The answer is a definite yes. I'm willing if yoiu are. You're so right. One of us had to make the first move. I've been thinking of it for some time but hadn't worked just how to put it."

"You don't mind my past interest in women?" Kristine pursued.

"No more than you mind mine. I think we've got to the point that none of them really matter anymore," John said in soft reassuring tones. He knew that she needed was right of course, reasoned Kristine, though she wouldn't tell him this straightaway.

"You really think we can live together long term?"

"Why not? We've had plenty of practice over the years." This was so true, Kristine realised immediately. Their experiences together were rehearsals for this moment and beyond.

"Thank you so much John. God, I could do with a cigarette," Kristine exclaimed, all her tension being released in a glorious rush. She could feel the presence of this man all around her. She'd never let herself give way to this emotion before as her guardedness was such an effective armour. John laughed richly at this heartfelt confession as the soft lights commemorated this moment forever in his mind.

Several hours later and in another part of town, Jo Mills and Jane Lancaster were wedded deeply in the intimacy of the surrounding darkness. They'd already made love once but neither woman thought this to be other than their starters. Each loved the feeling of the other sliding against her and the taste and smell. All their hard work was for occasions like this.

"I feel so married to you, darling," Jo said out of nowhere in the soft warm intimacy of their bed. For a second, Jane had a slight misgiving about the most appropriate time to propose marriage but then figured out that this was as good a time as any and this wasn't pillow talk but absolutely real. If nothing else, Jo had always been literal and always what was on her mind and Jane knew this.

"I've never remotely thought that way with another woman for having a good time but you're I can imagine this so very easily sweetheart," Jane said with soft but deliberate intent.

"Can this be really possible? I'd go down on one knee and ask your hand in marriage only I'm inside you right now. I really want this to be so," mused Jo with gentle humour. She'd never wanted to dwell upon her status in life as she'd once been a respectable widow until her identity had been muddled by her on off relationship with John Deed, then with Mel Bridges and finally with Jane Lancaster. She'd floated along happily like this and had never imagined in the past getting married again. She somehow figured out that the opens were well set for this.

"It seems the most emotionally logical step. It's legal now so it's not some fantasy if we want to make it real," Jane said softly, kissing her lover gently."I promise we'll talk about wedding rings and outfits and stuff like that later."

The wind was taken out of both women's sails. Neither of them had thought in terms like this before as the moment crept up on them but it felt gorgeous.

"So here's to my always lover and wife to be," Jo proposed, kissing the back of her lover's hand as the right thing to do.

"My wife. I really like the sound of the word, lover of mine," Jane whispered starry eyed **.**

This prompted Jane to flex her hips upwards more forcefully than before in a state of romantic desire especially as she felt so wet inside. A broad smile spread across Jo's face as her own desires were stimulated and she started to slide back and forth and mark their committment in this most romantic of fashion.

An hour later when both women were finally spent and exhausted and were wrapped round each other, Jane asked a hesitant question into her lover's ear.

"About us getting married, I suppose you want us to be Mills Lancaster or Lancaster Mills?" she asked in a slightly dubious tone of voice. Jo saw the real line of thinking straightaway.

"Just relax Jane. I want us both to be Lancaster. I've always liked your name and it'll make sure I'm free from my past. I'd figured that out," Jo laughed as she ran her fingers through her lover's long fair hair and down her shapely back. Immediately, Jane's face brightened and glowed and she stretched herself out along her lover's full length. Both women were tired but she felt a little more life seep into her system.

"That feels good. In fact it feels marvellous. I love the thought of being married to you," she breathed as she curled herself round her lover."There's one more thing I want to do for you."

"And what might that be?"Jo breathes with a Cheshire Cat smile on her face. She had more than a suspicion as the sexiness in their voices started to mingle.

"Just this," Jane said and she slid her fingers down towards her lover's centre and gently started her caressing moves on her.


	35. Chapter 35

Trisha's flickered open at the unearthly hour of six-thirty in the morning but it wasn't the early sunlight or the relentless perfectionism of the alarm clock that did it. It was a subconscious sense of duty and the realisation that this was the day on which her energies and Sally-Anne's had been focussed for the last few months. An incoherent murmur from behind her head and an affectionate squeeze to her stomach announced that her partner had also come to life.

"It's time to make a move darling. You know we've got so much to do," Sally Anne murmured into her ear. Trisha groaned softly but she was mollified by a soft kiss on the back of her neck and a loving caress. The fair-haired woman knew that duty called so she turned over a corner of the duvet and led the way to the shower for both of them to freshen themselves up. Thanks to their hard work over the last few days, their outfits were all ready for them to step into.

At this time, Rose's eyes blinked wide awake and she bounded out of bed in a state of great excitement. An irresistable impulse sparked in her mind to share her joy of the special, special day with her mummies who obviously felt the same. She ran into their bedroom and jumped on their bed, only realising too late that they were still in bed asleep.

Helen was in a deep and dreamless sleep when suddenly out of nowhere a weight descended on her from out of nowhere. Her first thought was to be blisteringly angry and remind their daughter that she wasn't to disturb them when she and Nikki were opened yes with difficulty when Nikki was mumbling incoherently as her own sleep was disturbed when she saw Rose's contrite expression on her face.

"I'm really sorry mummies for disturbing you but this is such an exciting day. I've been looking forward to it for weeks."

Nikki laughed ruefully as she realised they were hoist with their own petard and Helen's anger dissipated.

"All right Rose, we aren't going to Kill you. Just this one time."

"We really are sleepy Rose and grownups need their rest," explained Nikki as she tried to ensure her tongue separated itself from her mouth as she spoke."We're really glad you're enthusiastic but we don't really have to wake up at this hour."

"Yes but we have to get ready," Rose said, her natural enthusiasm leaking through to the surface now she knew she was forgiven.

"Our outfits are ready and all we need is something to eat and there are hours before we need to head off to Chix," replied Nikki more firmly."Give us half an hour and lie down on the bed with us."

"Just this one time. Any other time, you'd be in deep trouble," Helen warned Rose with a parental note in her voice not to push her luck. Reluctantly, Rose complied but the two women weren't much better off as their daughter was such a wriggler.

Roisin and Cassie were no better off as two children bounded excitedly into their bedroom. Both women accepted this with great forbearance as it was not so long ago that the moody adolescent Michael couldn't be moved from his bed at weekends and his bedroom was a dump.

At a more civilised hour, George and Alice got themselves up and dressed in a leisurely fashion and the dark-haired woman was being treated to an unusual sight, the vision of her lover in her best dark suit, white shirt and her barrister's gown which clung elegantly to her figure. Her elegant facial profile and flowing blonde hair as she looked at herself in the mitrror caught the sunlight and completed the picture to perfection.

"They say that women have a weakness for a uniform but I'm one step better off," she said in a desirous tone of voice.

"You can look but not touch, at least not till tonight," she teased gently. George was of the school of thought that a bit of narcissism didn't do any lady any harm."You've kept very quiet about your outfit. I know you have a very attractive fixation for black and white."

"You can now look round," Alice said a little shyly. George opened her eyes wide as she saw a wondrous vision of alice is a swirly multicoloured flowing dress of various lengths which was perfectly contoured to fit her figure. It was a revelation to the fair haired woman who wore her sophistication like a fashion garment.

"Did anyone tell you that you've got great legs? I mean I know it but I haven't seen them like this. I mean you look fabulous," George said with wide-eyed wonder.

"You like it? I thought I was going out on a limb for my taste," Alice said bashfully, visibly glowing like a birthday girl.

"Wait till the others get an eyeful of you. Mind you, they can't touch either," joked George in a reassuring fashion as she put on her white boa with a quick swirl of her hand.

Jane had a similar reaction when she beheld Jo resplendent in her immaculate court outfit complete with her black gown.

"And it's said that there's such a weakness for nurses in their outfits. I could ravish you right now," Jane said with a meaning look at the hem of her lover's knee length black skirt.

Jo was equally smitten my her partner's pink dress which, with her freeflowing blonde hair and strawberry coloured lipstick made her look so delectable.

"You really are putting temptation in my way. You are so delectable that I might get to you first. Let's leave it tonight and we can ravish away," Jo said, appearing to look as cool as a cucumber but feeling a maelstrom of heightened anticipation for the day in hand and unashamed lust. She knew she had to put the dampers on things as she felt duty bound to get them to the celebrations on time.

"I know it might not be politically correct but I love my black dress," Karen said almost defiantly as she put the finishing touches to her makeup while Beth was occupied elsewhere..

"I'm not grumbling. You look gorgeous anyway. I'm the one who's going to miss some of the fun. I'm more worried about my outfit," Beth said as she put final adjustments to her red dress.

"What's the problem darling?" Karen said with a melting tenderness in her voice which she didn't care to deploy too much in public. In her mind, Beth looked slightly formal but looked as gorgeous as ever with her bark bob cut and large eyes. She laid a hand on her lover's shapely hand.

"This is a compromise as I'm doing press coverage for the Independent. This dress isn't as short as I like it but it does for work. There's still an expectation that female journalists can dress glamorous but are still expected to look, well, professional. I know it's all bullshit but there's only so much I can push boundaries and believe me, I push plenty," Beth said in an irregular and uncertain flow of words mingling reluctant acceptance and defiance in turn.

"I know how it goes and so do the others. We all have to work out how far we can push it and not get fired for no good reason. The gang needs you-and others on the Pride march - need you to get word out to the public. The truth is that you feel you're really missing out on the party," Karen said, looking at her lover with her big blue eyes.

"Something like it," Beth conceded, sticking out her bottom lip. Karen knew Beth of old.

"Well, after you've done your bit and typed up your report, I'll phone you to meet us wherever the rest of the gang end up and if all else fails, we'll have an extra special party of our own in our bed tonight and celebrate our pride in being lesbians," Karen replied, twining her arms round her lover's shoulders. Beth brightened up at these alluring promises. At the back of her mind, she knew that Karen's talk of duty was nothing she wouldn't live up to personally.

When Helen and Nikki decided to get up much to Rose's delight, they had a shower and were about to get into their makeup and into their green dress and trouser suit respectively when Helen took a call. She listened attentively and after she was done, called out to herr partner.

"Hang on Nikki, we'll need to take our outfits with us and get on our jeans and T-shirts. It might be an idea to tip off Cassie and Roisin to do the same."

Nikki raised her eyebrows and once Helen had explained, she went and fished out a couple of smart carrier bags from the their favourite clothes shop.

Half an hour earlier, Trisha was deploying her best businesswoman's manner in the oil laden no frills reception area of the lorry hire depot. The man alongside the battered looking computer glanced curiously at the blonde who was dressed in a multi-coloured trouser suit but reckoned that her friend's driving licence and all the paperwork was in order. He was all businees as he showed the ropes to the dark-haired bird in the fancy black suit but looked disapprovingly at her high heels.

"You can't drive one of our lorries with heels like that. You're asking for trouble and wrap it round a lamp post."

"You didn't think I'd use these to drive this truck. My friend has my trainers. On a job like this, fashion comes second ," Sally-Anne replied in polite tones, suppressing her natural fire. She realised she'd got out of practice in dealing with men but she didn't tell him that Trisha had made this very point the evening before much against her will.

"Right you are fhen. Anyway, here are the keys," came the neutral reply.

Ten minutes later, Sally-Anne was cónscious of being perched on high, conscious of the front wheels far below her and the much heavier feel of the controls. She'd just about avoided splitting her skirt getting up to the driver's seat and Trisha was beside her, having had an easier job in her ascent. She was conscious of being part of the biggest thing on the road and could look down on all the four by four cars who needed to keep out of her path. She could see how truck drivers had their machismo though she was L-plateish as she struggled to haul the truch round corners. Pretty soon, she was bowling down the road and reached the Chix club. When she and Trisha had met up with the club staff who were helping with the sound system, she looked at the big open platform, the framework for the big bold white shaped lettering of the club, the contrasting shades and areas of pink with orange and green and the PA system and they realised that they were going to need more help with setting everything up than they'd banked on. Not least were the packets of coloured baloons that needed blowing up and bluetacking . It was at this point that Trisha phoned up Helen out of sheer desperation.

"You hang on Trisha and we'll all be round to help out," Helen said reassuringly to Trisha whose panic level thankfully subsided.

"Bless you, you guys. We'll be forever in your debt for this," Trisha exclaimed with a huge breath of relief. She knew how competent and businesslike their friends were.

As Cassie steered their big family Rover car, Michael and Niamh were in the back in holiday spirit and the change of clothing were in the large boot. Cassie turned her head briefly while keeping her eyes skinned on the red Peugeot going like a bat out of hell and zeroing them all along the line to Chix.

"How much work do you reckon needs doing Roashe?"

"There's quite a lot of furniture shifting from what Nikki was telling me. Blowing up balloons to decorate the truck may have to take a back seat," observed the dark-haired woman cautiously.

Michael nudged Niamh. The answer was obvious and they were sure Rose would be up for it even if she hadn't worked it out already.

When the two cars arrived outside the club, the float was half ready. The club staff had their hands full in setting up the sound system so a rather harrassed Trisha and Sally -Anne, dressed now in the nearest casual clothes that came to hand were on the first stages of fastening the letters of the club sign to the side of the trailer furthest away from them and had more work to do. They'd worked hard in draping pink and purple coverings on the sides and floor of the truck's main structure.

"Hey Trisha, the rescue team are at the ready," Nikki called out cheerfully. Trisha and Sally-Anne had been conscious of working against the clock in getting readty and broke into relieved smiles as the two cars rapidly disgorged their contents. Helen had the presence of mind to introduce Michael to the others who hadn't seen him before. After a rapid discussion took place, the three children got the feeling that they were being overlooked in the bustle to get ready so Michael stepped up to the mark.

"Do you want us to blow up the balloons Trisha? We're used to it from birthday parties," Michael offered in a curiously adult fashion and breaking into the discussion at just the right time.

"You're a star Michael. You all are," Trisha said with a heart warming smile that touched the lad. It made them feel a part of things. She fished out the packets which had been carelessly stashed among the pile of assorted objects and explained the colour pattern along the side of the truck and elsewhere.

"I've got enormous lungs.I can do this even though I'm the littleist," Rose exclaimed to appreciative grins. This was so like her.

"We can bluetack them to the truch we're not tall enough to go up very far," Michael intervened politely.

"I'll help you out children. I'm tall enough. We'll manage between us," Roisin said decisively, winning an admiring look from Cassie . Michael in particular greeted his mother's description of them as children tolerantly. A few months ago, it would have set him off at the deep end but he knew that they were treated as useful and a bit grown were dressed in their specially prepared T-shirts and jeans so they were well away. In the silence of the early morning, the whole crowd set to work with a will.

George and Alice were really excited as they drove off to Chix at high speed. They'd been on previous Pride carnivals and the big 2004 antiwar march but this was the first time that their club was high profile and it was special. They could feel it in their guts, the way that intensity of feeling flowed through their senses and Alice started them off singing some crazy song or other. Finally, the sight of a large truck, all decorated with pink and purple drapings, multicoloured balloons and stagings announced they were there. Michael, Niamh and Rose comprised the welcoming committee. All the two women could think of saying was "wow."

"We didn't do this all by ourselves George," Rose said gravely in a curious adult fashion."This is Michael and Niamh, my best friends." Michael remained open-mouthed as George in particular as she looked so stunning in her barrister get up. He was happy to let their friends do the talking.

"Our mums are having a quick wash and change along with Trisha and Sally-Anne. They won't be long," Niamh added helpfully.

After Jo and Jane's car swung to a halt and Karen's green MG sports car shortly followed, they claimed the last available car parking spaces as the lorry, now transformed into the Chix Pride float, occupied the bulk of the spare space. At that moment, the front doors of the club opened and Trisha led the group of women after her, coming to greet the rapidly expanding crowd. the children felt a little overawed at the crowd of confident women, dressed up to the nines as only Rose had seen them in pairs before as they'd childminded her. She hadn't seen them as a whole nor as flamboyantly dressed and as excitable.

"This looks so great," Jo found herself saying without thinking and didn't mind how obvious sher sounded.

"You're sure you're up to driving something this size?" Karen asked sally-Anne in concerned tones.

"Well, I drove it here at normal speed. It's a lot bigger than I'm used to but once we get to the assembly point, it'll be dead slow all the wayu and follow the crowd," Sally-Anne said, trying to sound positive to herself and the others. Though her trainers detracted from the glamour of the rest of the outfit, they made her feel grounded and that's what she needed right now.

"Time to get going you guys," Trisha declared while checking her watch."We've got three miles to go to the assembly point fairly slowly and we'll travel on top. I've got a portable ladder so we cal all get up comfortably."

"We'll be all right," volunteered Michael as he sensed the others needed encouraging at the thought of getting up on the platform which seemed formidably high up. He wanted their mums in particularly not to worry. Trisha took grateful advantage of this moment and flashed him a grateful smile.

As the crowd climbed up onto the platform and the stepladders brought up after them, Sally-Anne was already at the wheel. She turned the ignition and gently eased the truck into motion and everyone momentarily clutched onto each other as this novel way of transport took a little time to get used to. Trisha saw that Nikki was looking at the Chix club as they started to move and knew that both women perceived this as a landmark from when they'd set up the club together all those years ago. This was a tangible fruit of their labours.

"We're off you guys," called out Helen cheerily as she got used to the sense of movement. Someone had to step up to call for this crowd to move onwards and upwards on a day like this and it might as well be Helen as anyone.


	36. Chapter 36

As Sally Anne started to drive the truck out into the London traffic, she was feeling uncomfortable from the word go. She had driven the truck down to Chix at a moderate speed and had started to get the hang of the feel of it. Now she was nursing it along at a slowish speed, she was highly conscious of a succession of cars zipping past them and tooting their horns. She was only too conscious that she was carrying all their friends and children on the back of a semi-open flatbed truck and their safety came first.

"I suppose we'll be OK as the speed we're going isn't axactly illegal," she said hopefully to Trisha who, with common consent, was detailed to help keep her partner company on this part of the drive.

"I'm not sure we won't be stopped by the police into trouble as the guys on the back haven't exactly got seat belts on," Trisha offered nervously. It had seemed such a good idea to assemble everyone at Chix rather than at the main assembly point which would be a nightmare for everyone to park. All of them knew that the more successful a Pride event was, the more difficult it was to form up. Too late, she saw that all of them had overlooked a vital point.

"Oh shit. I hadn't thought of this," Sally-Anne exclaimed as she dealt with this nasty surprise while continuing to drive smoothly."Look here, we'll have to chance it. I'm turning left at the next junction and we'll wend our way down the backstreets. It'll take a little longer but it'll reduce the risk of being nabbed."At least we won't end up in prison over this. "

"I'll phone Nikki to warn them of the turn," Trisha resolved now that she'd got over her temporary loss of nerve. Up till now, she had been worrying a little about how their friends had been getting on as they were certainly moving quite a bit faster than when they'd join the parade so now was the time to find out for sure.

"Hi Nik," Trisha said in as casual a tone of voice as she could make it."We thought we'd warn you that we're turning off the main drag just in case we get stopped by the police. The turn is about a hundred yards up but we'll slow down in plenty of time."

To Nikki, her friend sounded nervous and she figured ouit why this should be the case. She knew Trisha of old and realised that she was genuinely worried about how her friends were coping.

"Thanks for the waning. We're managing OK up here as we're either sitting down against the back screen or holding onto the PA system and the staging. We know you can't drive dead slow even if it is a bit draughty. Nobody's complaining," Nikki said clearly as the backwash from the truck's forward motion ruffled her hair and cut through her suit..

"Thank God for that. we're only a mile or so away from the assembly point," Trisha answered in sounds of relief. Sally-Anne got the drift of the conversation as she put on the indicator, took her foot off the accelerator and prepared to gear down.

The women and children had got used to impatient motorists pipping their horns and clung on tight as the truck swung round the corner. They knew that their time would come after the initial discomfort. As the truck wended its way down the back streets, it slowed down so that the ride on the back of the truck became more comfortable and they got used to figuring out when the truck was due to turn. They cheered up when distant sounds of percussive dance rhythms sounds started to grow by slow degrees and percolate into the group's senses. As the truck proceeded, they started to see friendly women and men in all sorts of outfits walking the same way and as the truck overtook them, they cheered and waved to them as they were now amongst friends. Michael, Niamh and Rose caught on fast. Behind the wheel, Sally spotted a woman in a Pride 2010 T-shirt, jeans, a pink boa and a clipboard waving to them for some reason.

"That's one of the organisers Sally. I think she's calling to us to stop," called out Trisha excitedly.

After Sally grought the truck to a gentle halt, she opened the side door. She and Trisha were starting to feel good as she senses the start of the payoff for all their hard work.

"We're the Chix float. I guess you can tell if you look at the side of the truck," she said with mingled pr ide and self-deprecation.

"We're really glad you've made it. You're looking good," the redhead said with a cheery grin.

"Hi there," Rose called out from space well above and to the side of the organiser. Startled, she looked up at the little girl and read the slogan on her chest. Her face split into a grin and, for one moment, she laid her cares and responsibilities on one side and called back, waving her free arm madly. This was totally novel but this encounter fitted her mental landscape perfectly.

"There's space left for you in the parade. Go straight ahead and when you turn right, you'll be on the main parade route. Good luck you guys," she called out.

 **"O** ne moment," called out Sally as a thought struck her."How far is it to the asembly point. We've been here loads of time before but I've never driven a truck here. I'm a bit disoriented."

"Keep on down here for the next hundred yards or so and turn right into the main street. That's where the parade assembles. You'll recognise it when we come to it. You'll come across a steward dressed just like me who'll tell you where to position your truck," came the gently reassuring reply.

"That's great," Sally Anne replied as she edged the truck into movement and relayed the news to Trisha. It suddenly struck her that there was a compression of traffic. A very flash looking pink open topped nineteen fifties Cadillac was the next vehicle ahead plus another truck further ahead. There was a definite feeling that this was a strand of the procession in the process of formation.

"Hey, what about telling the rest of the guys? We can't hog the good news to ourselves. They can't see forward," Trisha thought suddenly to herself a minute later. It only crossed her mind by accident that the high metal wall at the back of the cab blocked off any forward view of their friends. She reached for her mobile again.

"Hi Trisha," Nikki answered in a carefree fashion while mixed sounds of merriment sounded in the background."we're doing fine up here. The children have been having a great time chatting to passers by. We were a bit cold and wind blown earlier on when we were on the bypass but we've warmed up now so we're ready to rock."

"I'm so pleased Nik. We've been told that we're coming to the assembly point in a hundred yards or so when we turn sharp right," Trisha said in jubilant tones.

"That's brilliant. Our day has finally come, everyone's day," Nikki called out excitedly.

Behind her, Roisin was holding Michael's hands as they conjured up an impromptu dance. Niamh and Rose looked out on the passers by and waved and shouted excitedly uincluding the bosomy creature wearing a long tight dress, vivid makeup and large hands. This was like a carnival and birthday party combined and the two girls felt extraordinarily safe.

"Hey, let's have some music on," exclaimed Cassie with a broad grin and it prompted a happy George to start to move to the music before it had even started. The girl who was DJing for the day had got well used to the fact that Chix had been transported to the open air as she felt the same excitement in the air. She clicked on the sound system and she chose a longtime favourite amongst the women.

"Hey, I like this," exclaimed Roisin as a brilliant smile lit up her face in a way that was her most endearing feature to Cassie."I play this in my car when I'm going to work."

All the other women got into the action and, as the truck moved slowly along, it was transformed from being just a vehicle with some women and children on it to a small, vibrant part of Pride. It was increasingly obvious that the men and women who were now walking alongside the truck weren't just passers by but were heading for the same destination as the pavements were now more crowded . It was if a stream of lava was moving along with slow but irresistable force to where is must go. In the cab, Trisha and Sally felt the faint propulsion of the music and grinned to each other briefly before Sally turned back to the job in hand, of driving the truck onwards.

"The tuirn's just ahead," Trisha called out to her friend when she saw the crowds bunching particularly on the street corner. The dark-haired woman saw a space open to drive into edged the truck forward and swung it round into a sharp arc. She saw the pink Caddilac come to a stop so she followed suit. Meanwhile, Helen was looking backwards as the truck swung into place and the broad thoroughfare leapt out of nowhere. She saw multitudes of people she was sure she would love from just one snatched glance and they were crowded atround floats which had been decked out in flamboyant colours and styles. The crowds around her whooped when their float came into view and Helen found herself jumping up and down and waving at them all. Amidst this riot of colours and people, other melodies and rhythms joined their own float and made for a glorious cacophany of sounds. She entwined her arm with Nikki's and gave her a warm, soft kiss.

"They're playing our music sweetheart."

"Darling you say that every time we come to Pride," murmured the dark-haired woman. She figured that possessive pride in her lover's beauty and intelligence didn't seem wrong at this moment.

"Ah but I've never seen it from on top of a flatbed truck. I feel I'm looking at the entire universe," Helen declared with a grand sweep of her arms.

"Heyt I'm glad you guys can make it. We saved this empty space especially for you," a friendly man wearing a Pride T-shirt called out to Trisha who had leapt down from the cab to sort out business. He ticked off their float against his list.

"So what do we do now? This is the first time we've got together a float so this bit's new to us," Trisha queried.

"We're forming up the procession. That'll extend back who knows how far. You're early and you'll notice when the parade starts moving. Just hang loose in the meantime," the man said in his relaxing fashion. Trisha gently smiled back, figuring out that this guy was quite a charmer. The DJ gathered what was going on and decided that, in this open air dance scene, this was the time to talk so she turned the volume down For the first time since they'd started out , Trisha had the chance to chat to her friends who comprised the open air cabaret and she stared in wonder at the sight. Could this really be the real life product of her dreams?. It really was true as the on stage scenery was striking, the music was playing away and all her friends were in the mood for dancing and they all looked stunning.

"So what's happening next?Cassie and I are new to all this," Roisin called out to Trisha below her. She had put on a sensible dress while Cassie was wearing a work suit and both women might have felt uncomfortable. Michael, bless him, had spotted the opening left for him, Niamh and Rose to help with the balloons and they'd set to work to help get the float ready. A wave of welcoming warm vibrations radiated out to them from all these women that they'd never met before and that clinched their identity. She'd ridden on down with Cassie and their family all the way here and everything felt right.

"Oh I'm sorry Roisin. It feels like you have always been around us," Trisha apologised in the most charming fashion imaginable."It takes time to form up a parade as there's such a lot of us. That's a good thing. Has everything been all right so far?"

"We're really happy Trisha," the dark haired woman replied with her brilliant smile and sliding her arm through her partner's as she stood on the edge of the flatbed. She loved the thought of being up on high. "We don't normally get out much but this is a family outing with a difference. It's our best experience for ages"

"That's so good. It helps me appreciate this as I can try and see this through fresh eyes," Trisha said warmly. Both Roisin and Cassie had heard Nikki talk about Trisha from time to time and they realised that this woman was as good a friend as she'd made out.

"You don't mind Beth not being with you?" asked Rose of Karen with her wide open eyes, seeing that she was the only one on her own.

"I'd obviously like her with me but her job is doing a news report on this parade so she has to get out and about. Besides, I've got you and all the rest of my friends with me. They help," Karen said honestly. When the fair-haired woman thought about it, she really did feel this way. From when she and Beth had first childminded for Rose, she'd found that the little girl's startling candour did her a power of good in clarifying her thoughts.

"That's cool then," came Rose's friendly reply after which she flitted away to chatter to Niamh and Michael who were waving to the crowds. They loved the feeling of being up pn high.

"Just when are we going to set off?" asked George of Jo with a touch of impatience as she adjusted her wig."I mean I'm enjoying myself but oughtn't we just get going?"

"Nothing changes, George. You were always the impatient one," laughed Jo affectionately at her friend."Oh yes, Jane and I are getting hitched, civil partnership kind," she added in a distracted fashion as a couple of women walked past, dressed up in the frothiest of white wedding gowns. Jane smiled back with the certain knowledge that this event marked their moment of betrothal.

"Oh so when did you decide this, Jo Mills? You might as well have let me in on the secret and told me first. You know I'm your best friend from way back and I hate to not know things," George exclaimed with considerable force.

"I'm sorry George, really we are. With this Pride march on our minds it slipped our minds. It felt as if everyone should be able to read our minds," Jo said so contritely having blundered in being so casual. George's anger was partly pretend as she knew she had a reputation to maintain and when Jo was so apologetic, George instantly forgave her.

"What's that you said Jo?" Karen asked as her ears caught onto the conversation. George grinned as word spread round the stage like wildfire and excitement rippled round the crowd. This made Jo feel quite self-conscious. She hadn't meant to announce it to all and sundry in this haphazard fashion.

"Might as well put it over the crowd on a PA system," Jo groaned under her breath. George's wicked grinalarmed the other woman in thinking that just might happen. At that moment, there was a flurry of movement and a cheer from the crowd.

"Guys, we're moving off," called out Trisha from the pavement as she'd been told that by one of the organisers. Nikki extended her arm to Trisha with a grin and she scrabbled her way onto the float, helped by a couple of passing bare-chested men dressed in jeans. She rolled onto the float and, picking herself up, started waving with both arms to the crowd just as Sally-Anne started up the engine and slid it into gear. On top of all these happenings, the DJ picked out a classic dance standard and that belted out over the crowd in a moment of celebration.

"Saved by the bell Jo," George clearly mouthed over to Jo as it was impossible to speak right now. While Jo Mills was starting to dance with Jane, she smiled ruefully at her friend and then put this incident behind her as she saw the crowds in the street sing along with the music as the float progressed down the street.

Alice looked around herself with a sense of bedazzled wonder, loving the feel of the swirl of her dress around her. George looked drop dead gorgeous as she swayed around her in her elegant black gown, white shirt and black skirt. Jo Mills matched her with her movements when set against the leggy beauty in the short pink beauty that was to be her wife. Nikki's cool besuited movements moved up against Helen's glowing curviness which her dress brought out. Roisin and Cassie had long since shed any inhibitions by this stage in the parade and were smooching together in their sober blue outfits with a spare coloured boa flung round them. Karen in her black dress joined Trisha in her patterned trouser suit as they alternated between waving madly at the crowds and playing with the three children who were happily enjoying themselves. They felt that this was as good as a holiday as anything with their mummies being close by yet not treating them like babies. All the happiness amongst all these kindly grownups didn't mean they were treated as invisible by them as one or other of one would do or say something. Everything felt right and this was an extra special treat in being allowed to show off to the limit to all the friendly people below them. Never before in their young lives had they'd been given such freedom to be who they wanted to be right now and their homes were a million miles away.


	37. Chapter 37

In the meantime, Beth had sped off early for her assignation with the organisers at the head of the Pride assembly point. There was a trace of sadness as she ate up the miles as she really wanted to be with her lover on a day like this. However, she'd angled to the the one to cover this event. She'd had competition amongst cynical and callow journalists in the Independent arts section who didn't care a jot about this and ey would turn out some flippant or callow pot boiler of an article and she didn't want that. She knew Karen's attitude to duty and this pushed aside her regrets so she focussed on the matter in hand. She finally slipped through the traffic in good time to coincide with the photographer's arrival to interview the Pride organising committee.

It was strange how she slipped so easily into her professional role as if she were some external functionary, aided by the fact that she'd never met the two men and two women before. Her questions sounded impersonal and professional and realised that, in their eyes, she was a fashionably good looking journalist in her formal red dress who didn't at least ask stupid questions. They took care to be formally enthusiastic in their turn while Beth's colleague blasted off a selection of shots of the committee and the lead float around which the early arrivals were clustered.

"So what would you be doing if you weren't paid to be here?" a guy finally asked her after holding himself back all this 's answer came right off the top of her head.

"I'd be with my girlfriend on the third float down, the Chix club float. She knows I have to be here to do best justice to this event but I still miss her."

The man's eyes opened wide. He squashed the obvious thought, 'I didn't know you were gay' and noted this woman's understated support for this event. The guy with her was obviously straight but he'd freely admit that he didn't find women particularly easy to read.

"I'm sorry that just for you, duty has to come before pleasure. If there's any more help we can give you, just say the word. I hope you catch up with your partner later on," he said in solicitous tones and his three colleagues' manner instantly warmed to her.

"Here's my business card in case we can talk at some time in the future. Thanks a lot you guys, we'll maybe catch up with you at the end of the parade," Beth replied a lot more chirpily than before. This guy had cheered her up and he knew it.

"Come on Jim. We're best off wandering round the crowds,doing short interviews and taking some photographs. After that, we'll head off to the central rally," Beth directed the young man firmly. He was a decent enough photographer, sticking to his brief in taking shots of the group but he was short on initiative and had to be pointed in the right direction.

"Where's that?" he asked vaguely.

"Trafalgar Square. I've been here before so I'll show you," she said shortly, not caring greatly what the guy might make of this.

Beth was certain that she'd find likely interview subjects as she knew some of them closely but wasn't certain how her professional persona would relate to her personal self.

"Hey that's Beth," Karen exclaimed, waving excitedly at her woman. she was intensely proud of the statuesque dark beauty as brief glimpses of her drew closer."I guess she'll interview us? I mean you're the obvious choice. " she asked of Trisha, looking to her of a lead. She didn't think it right to push in.

"We need a few of us to help trisha out. all of us are equally good at saying it as it is. I daren't risk ripping my tight dress getting down of this truck," Helen intervened decisively.

"That leaves Nikki and Cassie," George observed.

"Me? You don't know what I can do," Cassie protested in an uncharacteristic self effacing manner that endeared her to the others.

"We know that Helen and Nikki know you and Roisin well enough. They say nice things about you mothers certainly helps us," Jo Mills offered kindly. On the journey down, she'd observed these two women closely and had got to like them. Cassie listened hard to this last observation and this crystallised her unsteady confidence.

"Can you explain for the readers who are out there just what London Pride means for you all?" Beth started off asking a representative sample of participants who were also her friends while flashbulbs flared, seizing the chance while the procession was temporarily stalled. Trisha senses her friend's intense self-consciousness and avoided talking directly to her but to imaginary crowds out there in the leafy suburbs.

"And this is also for us mothers. We come here in different shapes and sizes you know. Hi you guys," Cassie found herself saying and waving excitedly to Michael, Niamh and Rose in their custom decorated T-shirts who waved and jumped up and down impulsively. Beth murmured an aside to Jim to snap this photogenic scene.

"We'd better talk to the kids afterwards to make sure they know what they're letting themselves in for before you can use this shot," Nikki said gently, intercepting Helen's concerned expression on her face.

"I'm sorry Nikki. It's the journalist side of me coming out. We won't use this shot if you have real problems," Beth answered apologetically, her uneasiness compounded by her impulse not to linger out of personal pleasure but to search out other mini-interviews in the crowds.

"Thanks so much Beth," Trisha said, kissing her friend on her cheek. With tears in her eyes, Beth blew a kiss to the crowd on the float, to her lover in her black dress. In a few seconds, she was gone. Trisha, Nikki and Cassie realised they had to clamber back up onto the float as the procession was sure to start up in a minute.

"And that's the Marble Arch," declaimed Roisin in marental mode as she pointed towards the large marble shape at the corner of the expansive greenery of Hyde park.

"Last time we came this way was the the second big antiwar march in 2004. you were there too Rose," Helen said in nostalgic tones to Nikki and Rose while they took a break from dancing.

"Yes but I was so little. It's not fair I can't remember it," complained Rose against the limitation of human biology to general laughter.

"Even you caqn't remember that far back Rose," put in Michael with tender affection.

"Hey, look at that nice hotel, the Dorchester Hotel," Michael exclaimed as the firm lettering against the elegantly rounded frontage came into view.

"That's where Cassie first declared her love for me. Mind you it wasn't the easiest situation for us both," pronounced Roisin proudly. The aptness of this parade passing by this monument to their past was striking.

Cassie grinned at the way her partner had understated the situation by a mile. She'd expressed her desires for Roisin when her frustration had boiled over. The smart suit and evening dress monument to heterosexuality at this evening meal and dance clashed with her binocular vision of Roisin's loveliness. That history was a long time ago and it was curious that this was the first time they'd passed by this hotel since then. Roisin squeezed Cassie's hand as they shared this thought.

As time went on, the parade moved irrevocably ever onwards and the music and percussive sounds echoed and reechoed down the streets. In the cab, Sally- anne had become comfortable with cruising gently down the city streets. She felt as if she was in a waking dream though she knew she wasn't. Women smiled and waved at her from every side as she drove the truck masterfully ever onwards. Finally shouts of joy cut a sharp edge through the massed sounds as the high pillar of Nelson's Column came into view under which a large stage and wraparound canopy came to dominate perspectives. Even the majestic buildings that surrounded them intio the square couldn't detract from their destination.

"Wow," was all Michael could say about the majesty of their surroundings and the enthusiasm radiating off the crowds that were already filling the square amidst which fountains shot cooling water into the air..

A Pride steward flagged down Sally as she pulled into the square and she opened the window.

"This is the drop off point for you guys. Here's a map showing where to park your truck on the embankment and how to get back here. We've got some friendly police to keep an eye on your truck while you're away," called out the friendly woman. when sally-Anne got out and passed word to the others, the DJ switched off the music and the crowd started to disembark down the stepladders and trod the tarmac with whoops of joy.

"Hey, the ground feels so wobbly," Cassie called out with wide eyed innocence.

"That comes from hours of adjusting to the flatbed which has been bouncing around. I remember that from a fwew Prides I've been to in the past," commented Nikki as past mental images floated back to her while the crowd started to assemble.

"I'll be with you in a bit when I've parked up," sang out Sally Anne from high up as she moved off and away. The crowd waved to her and started to merge into the crowd ready for the spectacle of music and spoken word to take place. Presently, they found themselves getting close to a blockage where the fountains both impeded the traffic and shot sprays of water high into the air.

In the meantime, Sally Anne drove the truck down Northumberland avenue and turned onto the Embankment and spotted the sign designating the parking spot. There were only a few places taken so far and she dropped the truck neatly into its spot. As she stepped down from the cab after locking it up, she faced none other than Ros Farmer, one of the friendly neighbourhood policewomen and a Chix regular along with her longtime partner Jenny , she'd never conmnected the ultimate pleasurable cause with someone else's official duty.

"Well hi there Ros," was all she could say.

"Some women have all the luck in casting an eye on the trucks so no idiot steals or vandalises them while you're off to the party," Ros replied in her useful forceful manner.

"I'm ever so sorry," she said in flustered tones.

"I'm joking Sally. Jenny's been at the head of the parade while I've been elsewhere on the march but this is a nice little overtime earner for us both for something we believe. Go on and enjoy yourself. You and Trisha are always doing parties for other women so you've earned it."

Reassured by this friendly woman and knowing that the truck will be in the best possible hands, Sally Anne hastily nipped along the road where she could hear party sounds at a distance. They sounded curiously detached from her after hours of being in the middle of the action. She paced back up the street and, with minimal attention to the traffic, made a bee line for the crowd and phoned Trisha on her mobile to locate her in the midst of the rapidly swelling crowd as more of the demonstration joined the crowd in Trafalgar Square.

The whole event was hugely overwhelming in colour and noise but at some point in the proceedings, Michael Niamh and Rose in particular found themselves becoming restive as they realised that they were running short of the endless energy and drive of the past few hours. This was starting to catch up with them. Being in a huge crowd of grownups put them at a disadvantage as everyone was taller than they were. They could hear a mixture of sounds and music but they couldn't see. They felt how all the grownups around them were happy and excited but they couldn't feel the same. It put them at odds with themselves and they felt grouchy and guilty atr the same time but couldn't put it into words. Finally, in a gap in the proceedings, Rose pulled at George's black sleeve and her green eyes managed to look upwards and catch George's eye.

"I'm really sorry to say it but I'm really tired and want a rest. Niamh and Michael feel the same," she said in a disconsolate tone of voice.

All this time, the fair-haired woman had been incredibly excited about being at the heart of this life affirming experience along with her lover and closest friends so that she was exceptionally attuned to emotion. Somehow, she found emotional space for this darling little girl for who she'd already had a soft spot which made up for her lack of emotion in her reduced share in bringing up her own daughter Charlie. Her two friends had grown on her as the three of them had thrown themselves into helping this grown up enterprises. It moved her that these children's experiences were distinct and not hers.

"Trisha, I think the children could do with a rest," she called out in her clear carrying voice. The other women picked up on the conversation and started up a rapid emergency conference. when they'd done, Helen and Roisin looked kindly on their offspring and looked to George to make the announcement.

"We've decided to have a slap up meal at that restaurant along the way. You children have really worked hard and must be terribly tired with all the work you've done. We've earned the right to take a break and we rather like the idea as well. It's on me," George said in her kindest tone of voice.

"Is it right to leave the others to it? It doesn't feel right," Michael asked as he was worried by the thought of the grownups being made to break ranks.

"Hey relax Michael," Nikki said in her most easy going fashion."Your sense of duty is great but we've got a lot of experience of Pride demonstrations and it's pretty common for people to take a break. We're not letting the others down."

"Cassie and I are new to this but we'll go along with the rest," interjected Roisin eagerly and loyally.

"Besides, we're going to have an interesting experience. George and I with our legal get up, your T-shirts and the others who are colourfully dressed will be flying the flag in the restaurant. It will keep people guessing aqnd there's enough of us to handle any trouble," finalised Jo in sober tones and an amused glint in her eye.

The accumulated weight of strength and insight passed into the three children's senses, cleansing them of any conflict. It all sounded mischievous. If these women and their mums in particular were up for this meal, then everything was all right.

"All right you guys, let's go," Trisha said. leading the way out of the crowd. as they moved off the square and across the wide road, they felt a curious sense of detachment and separation from the collective experience that had surrounded them for all these hours. George took over the lead as she zeroed in on the restaurant. She took hold of the brightly polished brass door handle and pushed the door open with a good feeling of breaking down barriers.

The boisterous young lads clustered at the bar with pints of bitter turned their heads as the restaurant doors blew open and two really attractive older women in legal get up convinced them that this was some kind of joke. They clocked the bunch of women as part of a hen night as they were in various kinds of fancy dress and bulked up the crowd. The children in T-shirts with Pride stencilled on the front made them think again and stare in puzzlement till the penny dropped that these were some kind of lesbians. As their bus had been delayed for an hour or so by this garish noisy demonstration till they finally got to pop in for a drink, they started to glare angrily at these interlopers. However, the short-haired woman dressed in her mannish looking suit moved to the front and looked hard so they downed their drinks and moved off elsewhere, muttering remarks under their breath.

"Thank God for that," exclaimed Roisin with a shiver."They were really making me feel uncomfortable."

"It clears the way for us to eat, drink and be merry," grinned Jane, always ready for a party. The children felt secure and comfortable, especially as they were offered comfortable seats round the long bar table while the grownups got hold of some the fime, subdued echoes of music and various sounds perxcolated through the restaurant walls and sounded softly hypnotic. Suddenly, the women realised they were more tired than they'd realised as an emotional and physical kickback from all their intense energies were suddenly expended. They sighed with pleasure as they collapsed into the restaurant chairs for an unmeasurable timespan. The children weren't much better.

George was the first to take action. Comandeering a sheety of paper and pen from a passing waiter which made the others grin at her boldness, she briskly asked of them what they wanted off the menu.

"And what about us? Are we to have children's portions?" Michael asked of George. Roisin winced slightly at her son's adolescent bid to be treated as equals when he and the others had already proved themselves.

"Take a look at that meal being served," smiled George broadly in her expansive fashion."if you think your stomach can handle it, then go for it. It's up to you three."

Michael grinned easily at that unselfconscious compliment to his maturity.

"And if Niamh and I can't quite finish it?" Rose asked in doubtful fashion.

"If in doubt, don't take on more than you can handle," Jo advised soberly which decided the two girls to play safe.

"but if you do overestimate, there are enough gannets around to help out Michael if push came to shove," joked Karen in her typical manner to a ripple of laughter around the table.

"And as for drinks?" asked Roisin who, like Cassie, felt a golden glow of pleasure coursing through her tired system.

"Us kids will stick together with coke. We don't feel like anything else," Michael answered after a quick silent confab. With a final squiggle, George wrote out the meal order and called over one of the young waiters.

The afternoon sunshine filtered its way through the restaurant windows with faint echoing music or was it the memories of being in the thick of loud dance music pumping out from the Chix float? It all chimed in with a gloriousd feeling of togetherness. They'd accomplished so much this day. The three children sensed in warm satisfaction the way each woman was paired off psychically with another with the exception of Karen whose partner Beth was somehow out there somewhere. The world felt good and natural.


	38. Chapter 38

The day after the Pride parade was one of slow lethargic recuperation from the expenditure of intense energy, of getting up late and laying around at home in a state of domestic lassitude. Helen half-heartedly summoned up the energy to head off for the local newsagent and she had the feeling of going back to reality as homely faces queued patiently for service and buying tickets for the vain hopes and impossible dream of the winning the National Lottery. She rifled briefly through the newspapers whose headlines were on a different planet and finally chose the Independent. It was a let down not to see their good friend Beth Pritchard's by line on an article covering Pride on the front page. Instead, there was the same boring political bollockb that all the other newspapers had featured.

"Oh no," she murmured to herself. She ought to have foreseen it, she murrmured to herself. Feeling tired and jaded, she grabbed at the newspaper, hoping that Beth's article would be somewhere in the depths of the paper, bulked up as it was with various supplements. She tottered off home and vowed to read the paper once she'd had a strong coffee and a cigarette to help her concentrate.

Roisin and Cassie were similarly tired the next day but they were cheered up by having made a vital connection. Inspired by the kaleidoscopic mental images of that day, they'd fixed up to go to Chix the following Saturday night with their new friends and childminding arrangements were fixed up on the spot.

After the family struggled its way through the basic necessities of the day, both women couldn't help noticing that Michael had something on his mind. He was friendly and sociable enough but kept giving them sidelong glances as if he were scrutinising them for some strange reason. The more time went on, the more it bacame obvious that someone was going to have to make the first move.

"You don't mind us asking but there's something on your mind. You don't have to talk but it's a lot easier if you do," Cassie asked ever so gently.

It did the trick. He was tired and wasn't in a communicative mood but he now knew enough that stewing on his thoughts didn't help him. He'd been with his mothers and their friends all day so he thought, here goes nothing.

"Mums," Michael suddenly said with an intense questioning look in his eye and clearly thinking about things."You're not saying that when I grow up, I mean more than I am right now, I'm sort of expected to be like the other men on the march and be with other men".

Cassie's first instinct was to burst into laughter at the absurdity of the question but reined herself in at the last minute. Michael was asking a terribly serious question about his identity which may have been lurking around for months if not years and now he had the courage to ask it and be treated seriously. She looked sideways at Roisin who was clearly wrestling with the same conundrum and finally the right words phrased themselves in her mind. She spoke in slow serious tones and looked him in the eyes..

"You're asking a very good question and my thoughts run like this. Roache and I will support you with any partner you care to end up with just so long as you get treated right and you treat that person right. This parade is about men and woman who make choices like Roache and I have. It certainly isn't choice you make, we'll learn to be good mums to help you if you need it. Whatever we don't know, we'll learn."

"Cassie's put it right. we'll both be there for you and Niamh when it's your turn," added Roisin making sure their daughter wasn't neglected.

"That is such a relief," exclaimed Michael as he blew air out of his lungs with sheer relief." You are the best mums ever."

"You make it sound like going for an operation," observed Niamh out of nowhere. This shaft of unconscious wit made the other three burst out in affectionate laughter. Of course the little girl was a few critical years down the line.

"Lets see what's on television together," suggested Cassie. She fancied some mysterious children's film, something nice and innocent for all of them to curl up on the sofa together gto watch.

John Deed had spent the Saturday hard at work previewing the trial papers which had been dropped on him as Judge Jackson, an ambitious young fogey, had gone unexpectedly sick for no clear reason. Muttering to himself, he knew he was up against a tough time limit and he picked up the phone first thing in the morning to put Kristine off.

"John, you have salved my conscience. I've let a tonload of essays pile up that need marking and a lecture to prepare for. If I let myself down spectacularly, I'll never be able to face my students. I was just about to phone you to explain this.

With a huge sigh of relief, John exhaled breath which he hadn't been aware that neervous tension had been holding back. It made him aware that he was less inclined to be on his own than he used to be but this didn't bother him as it once might have done.

"Well, I suppose duty comes before pleasure for both of us from time to time Kristine," he said, a sense of relief filtering through the formality of his words.

"We'll compare notes this evening on the phone and see if you can drag yourself away over to my place," Kristine replied in her light and pleasant tones. This cheered them both up.

Halfway through the day when he broke off for a cup of coffee to clear his head, he phoned up George for a random chat. To his mild surprise, there was only a recorded voice explaining her absence. The same happened when he tried Jo so he ended up leaving a message on George's ansaphone and went back to his studies.

On Sunday morning, he picked up his copy of the Independent that was left for him and the headlines turned him sick to his stomach. He suspected that part of his world was about to tuirn on a hinge and he knew that this was nothing to do with his love stuffed the paper onto the passenger seat as he got into his car to head off to Kristine's flat.

To Beth, that weekend was a mixtute of frenetic activity and bitter disappointment. After her tour of the Pride parade had finished, she'd zoomed back to her office and in an inspired burst of activity, her fingers had flown around her computer keyboard as she rattled off her article straight off the top of her head and, on vetting it for final submission, she had reckoned that she'd put together an inspired piece of writing that concisely covered a lot of territory, both physical and emotional. She had noted with satisfaction that any of a selection of photographs would help bulk up her article. She had zoomed off from the office to meet her friends in Trafalgar Square. Intuition had prompted her to check out the rather nice restaurant that caught her eye. As she pushed her way throiugh the double doors, she had felt as if she were on her last legs. Through the gap, Karen had came into view, her face lighting up with pleasure and her arms spread wide. As she had sunk into her lover's arms to hold and be held tightly, she had reckoned that this was delicious recompense for all her hard slog of the past few hours

When she got hold of her copy of the Independent on Sunday, she stared with sightless eyes at unexpected developments. It was one of life's ironied that she was supposed to be the media savvy professional yet she'd totally overlooked the political news story that had steamrollered everything else aside. She impatiently rifled through the paper and fury boiled up inside her as a drastically cut down version of her original article appeared on Page 12 minus any photograph while journalists whom she had no time for drivelled on pointlessly on an area of life that profoundly bored her. She was more political than most but was not interested in the long running political soap opera.

"The basta\rds. Those frigging sub editors sitting on their fat backsides have cut my article to pieces," Beth shouted angrily, waving the crunched up paper around.

"Hey sweetheart, I know how you feel but don't let it get to you," Karen urged in soothing tones even though her heart sank at the prospect that the front page article was only the start."You've done your best for us. You've really tried. You're our woman on the inside of the media, don't ever forget this."

Karen was the only woman that Beth would accept such well-meaning efforts to calm down as she knew what traumas her partner had gone through in the past. The fair-haired woman drew her into her arms and made shush-shushing sounds into her ear and Beth surrendered to the feeling of being comforted. She knew that Karen was as much annoyed as she was but it was true that the act of trying counted for something. They moved onto the sofa, their favourite place for intimate heart to hearts and embraced each other for a long time before coming to the surface. They would have to move on and upwards.

Since Rose's birthday party, Emma and two other girls had become increasingly close in the same proportion that they became more estranged from their form mates. They decided that they liked each other very much and were huddled up in a corner of the playground after the last lesson that morning and quickly eating the school meal in the barn of the school dining room where they felt themselves overheard all the time. While they were having a good gossip, Rose just happened to let slip the Pride parage she'd been on with Niamh and Michael and their mums. Whern Emma pounced on this, Rose meekly added that they'd been dancing on a float in fancy dress with all their mums friends.

"And you never told us about this? I can't believe it. Tell us more about it," Emma exclaimed, her curiosity, love and annoyance all being aroused by the way her friend's revelation casually slipped out. Rose immediately felt uncomfortable and guilty. She'd assumed that her friends wouldn't have related to this project as they didn't have two mums.

"I didn't think you'd be interested," she said sheepishly after the rest of her experiences had dribbled out in bits and pieces.

"Rose, we know you do the coolest things. You should have given us the chance," Emma pronounced, folding her arms across her chest.

"All right, I should have told you. I'm really sorry. I want to make up for it somehow," she said at last in faltering tones.

The other three girls exchanged glances. The answer was obvious.

"Well, we could have a sleepover at your house. Your mums are lovely and kind and, after all, they know us," Emma answered, rustling up a selection of arguments that could be deployed to Rose's mums.

Rose cheered up straightaway as this idea set her mind whirling away. She knew that her mums wouldn't have any problems with Emma staying over but two more friends involved practical problems. They had more reservations about the disastrous consequences of Rose staying over at Emma's house.

"I'd love it but it could be difficult- I mean all of us," Rose answered slowly and tentatively.

"Come on Roase, you know it's a great idea," urged Denny, a small girl with short fair hair.

"don't pressure Rose," cut in Emma very loyally. She knew her friend better than anyone and could sense her turn the idea over in her mind. She trusted Rose to sort matters out in her own time and fashion.

"Oh no," the other girl complained. She was Donna, a lively girl with naturally curly dark hair and a fresh complexion."It's Matha. It's so not my favourite subject."

The four girls clattered across the school yard. None of them paid the least attention to the fact that Rose had consolidated her wierd reputation in the eyes of the right-thinking crowd and didn't bother that they'd attracted wierdness by association.

On Monday night, Rose flopped herself down in front of the TV as she was so tired. The channel that came up featured a man in a studio talking loudly and confidently but she couldn't understand a word he was saying as he was using all kind of long words. She guessed that he was supposed to be telling everyone what was going on in the world but it puzzled her why he wasn't saying anything about the pride event she'd gone on with her friends. When the man started asking another man all sorts of questions, she couldn't understand the other man either. If she weren't so tired, she would have switched channels long ago.

"Mums, what's thisv programme all about," she asked querulously,.

Nikki came out of the kitchen where she'd been helping with the dinner and took in everything at a glance. The Sunday newspaper that Helen had bought from the newsagent had told her the worst.

"There's going to be what they call a General Election. Several groups of people have different ideas on how we should live. Every five years or less, they ask us who we want to vote for in each town or village and the group that gets the most numbers in most of the towns gets elected," Nikki said carefully, choosing her words with the greatest care.

"But they all sound the same," Rose said with her devastating logic as a man came on the screen from an outside link. His hair was combed back from his forehead and he spoke in what seemed to Rose to be in a superior conceited manner.

"That's true to some extent," Nikki answered with careful deliberation. Oh what a load of shit I'm talking, her inner voice corrected her. She knew that this man was referred to as "hug a hoodie" and was filmed riding his bike to look oh so caring for the environment but she was not deceived by his blandishments. Gut instinct told her that this man was just as dishonest as Fenner eveer was and he wasn't a million miles different in his manner from Helen's ex-partner from years ago, Sean Parr."Correct that Rose. They're all getting way more like each other than ever. It's like choosing between HP baked beans and Heinz baked beans," confessed Nikki with a rush of fierce emotion.

"But they're all men. Wouldn't a woman be better?" questioned Rose as her gaze panned back and forth between one party leader and the other. Both sounded insincere to Rose's critical ears.

"Twenty to thirty years ago, we've had bad experiences of a woman in charge. She passed a law called Section 28 which meant that if your teacher said nice things in class about the way our family lives or Cassie and Roisin's, she or he could be in trouble. They thought that it encouraged other families to live like that."

"But what's so wrong with that?" asked Rose in wide-eyed surprise. She couldn't get her head round the absurdity of such thinking.

"You may well ask Rose. You might think that's a relic of the bad old days but I don't trust them not to do the dirty on us. A leopard doesn't change its spots," continued Nikki

"The trouble is that this lot have undone the damage but they've done a lot of dreadful things in other areas. They've told so many lies for a start," chipped in Helen from the kitchen as she finally set the meal to cook in the oven. She'd been overhearing the political discussion and she couldn't resist making a contribution once she was free to do so.

Rose's curiosity wasn't satisfied as her mums didn't really make sense. a surge of questions came into her mind and out of her mouth.

"Well, where do these parties come from? Can't anybody start a party? I mean you and John Deed talk more sense than those do. Any of you could lead a party," protested Rose volubly.

"That's a very goos question Rose,"Helen said very her eyes started to glaze over. Nikki was similarly stuck for words. Their daughter's questions had taken them aback as they'd never cared for party politics and therefore never confronted the big picture. They'd helped to fight specific injustices to themselves and their friends through the court and got to know the legal fighters for freedom. Before then, they'd fought injustices within the prison system from their different perspectives. They'd taken part in the antiwar movement which was a crusade against the powers of darkness. But politics as a whole? John Deed had spoken scathingly to them of Neil Haughton and seen him from afar as he'd confronted him on a picket line. They'd inferred from this that politicians were morally sleasy and didn't want to get too close to that world for fear of being contaminated. But how could they explain this to their daughter?

"It's difficult to explain Rose. If we thought that politics was fair and honest, we'd throw ourselves into it. The problem is that ordinary women and men are shut out. It's their game and not ours. The only way we can make a dent is to devise ways and means that don't confront them where they're expecting us. It means that you do end up carrying on fighting to be who you are and try and change things indirectly. That's what Pride is all about," Helen said, her words gathering certainty and conviction as words formed themselves from out of her unconscious. Nikki placed one hand round her partner's shoulders, her big brown eyes overflowing with emotion.

Rose said nothing. Her eyes were wide open as she heard and remembered everything. She felt the presence of those two infinitely loving and caring women standing over her and protecting her. In turn, they were conscious that their superbly bright child didn't ask them which way they were going to vote at the General Election.


	39. Chapter 39

Charlie Deed had long since found her feetand left home after finishing university seven years ago, attending bar sxchool and becoming a junion barrister. She'd mostly grown up with John but she now had hert own life to lead and her own social crowd. It meant that she hadn't got much chance in keeping up with John's life though she was mildly surprised to find it more stable than it used to be. She'd also become closer to George over the years after she had got over the party that her mother's friends, Karen and Beth had thrown. She'd had been subjected to a reality awakening that George was happy with her new partner Alice, John had become partnered with the intimidatingly intelligent blind lecturer, Kristine Thorne and everyone was happy and contented with their lives with zero emotional drama. When she did make a periodic reappearance at John's digs, she was mildly surprised and pleased to find that Alice and George were a permanent fixture so that she was much more approachable than she used to be. Likewise,John's new relationship was continuing on an even keel. Even his periodic clashes with the establishment had reached a state of stalemate. Gransddad was much as he ever had been and was delighted to see his only granddaughter making solid progress in the career he'd always wanted her to pursue.

"Hi dad. I've gust got a day down here tonight after finishing a court case in Halifax. Can you put me up? I'll be here around sixish," she said breezily even though they'd not spoken for several weeks.

"I'll get an extra place at dinner and a spare room in that case," John said in easy tones. By chance, this was one night he wasn't due round at Kristine's flat as she had work to catch up with.

"That's cool. Thanks a lot dad," came the casual reply beneath which strong family feelings were felt.

Sure enough, Charlie came bouncing into the digs, dressed up in her formal dark suit and white shirt. A wheeled suitcase came trailing after her. She embraced her father warmly as they hadn't met for some time.

As both of them dug into a hearty dinner which absorbed some of their attention, friends of John drifted in and joined them on the long dioning table. As Charlie had indicated that she wasn't concerned to grab her father's exclusive attention, a criss-cross conversation gradually started up.

"I trust you'll be able to find time to call in on your mother?" John enquired gently.

"I am a bit short of time," Charlie started to say in a discomforted fashion before intercepting a questioning look from her father."Oh I suppose I'll manage to squeeze her in."

"Your mother is doing splendidly these days,"put in Monty, feeling that his place was there to make a gentle intervention. His own son was abroad and had nothing to do with him, something he felt deeply so that he wanted to encourage other families to be happy.

"I'm sure she is Monty. I still find it strange that she and Jo Mills are competing with each other on how to be the best campaigning barrister- even if mother isn't shy of making money."

"Your mother has never gone in for wearing her heart on her sleeve. Even now, she's still embarrassed at the thought of being earnest and self-righteous. You have to see what she does. Even when she was with Haughton she would discreetly ensure no disaster would be visited on me. Since those days, she knows better than to deny the existence of her feelings and Alice has quite a bit to do with that."

"You're right dad. Alice is restful company. It's just that old memories die hard," Charlie said reluctantly as something inside of her hadn't quite caught up with reality. Her eyes didn't quite John's who had the disconcerting knack of being direct.

"i know you had a lot of upset when you were a child, a lot of which was my stupid fault. I still did get a lot right. You have to let the dead bury the past. I've wondered if a tiny part of you still think your mother and I will get back together even though we're very good friends, yes?"

"Maybe you're right. It's irrational for me to think that way," Charlie answered, her face colouring. You and Kristine as as much an item as my mother and Alice are. I must accept all this."

"That's good Charlie," John said with a smile on his face but his daughter picked up on a trace of background nervousness. She deduced that he had something on his mind but was uncharacteristically shy of expressing out in public. She promptly led her father along a neutral topic of her experiences in the legal circuit on which all the others had done in their time and could easily relate to The evening passed comfortably enough until John and Charlie headed up to his bedroom suite. It had that old-fashioned country house feel that all judges favoured without exception.

"Now then dad. You've obviously got something on my mind. You need to tell me all about it," Charlie demanded with more than a hint of her mother's forcefulness.

"I did want to tell you first on your own," John conceded, feeling a little helpless to resist while stuck into a comfortable armchair while Charlie was standing. Behing his outward graciousness, he was using this space to find the right words to edge into the topic in hand.

"Go on dad, I'm listening," Charlie said gently to fill a bit more space, hoping that her tone of voice wouldn't scare him away on a personal matter.

"Well, I'm not settling down into comfortable old age with a pair of slippers nor would Kristine let me. we're thinking of getting married. In fact, she popped the question to me and I accepted."

A rush of different emotions rushed through Charlie, first and foremost being memories of her parents bickering when she was a little girl and their final separation. Now this was being reversed. The part of her that took charge noticed how her father spoke quicker than normal. He wanted her approval. When she thought about it, it was entirely his business but there was more to it than that. He'd become more relaxed, more himself as time had gone on and he and Kristine did go together in an intangible fashion. She was definitely no bimbo, curiously ageless and she was a frighteningly intelligent woman in her own right. It was obvious that she had to give them her blessing. Picking the right words wasn't easy and she had to get it right first time.

"Well, what can I say? I mean you both had to do this in your sweet unconventional fashion. I admit I don't know Kristine that well but she certainly impresses me. If you're both happy, then I'm all for it and put me down for a place at your wedding," Charlie said with growing warmth and enthusiasm.

The beaming smile and warm hug from her father told Charlie that she'd got it exactly right, Her father topped up her drink and enthusiastically told her that her mother liked Kristine as well. This was something Charlie was glad to hear.

Pretty soon, they were settled down and Charlie glanced at the row of family photographs lining the mantlepiece. A small picture in a silver frame caught Charlie's eye as she couldn't place its context. A little girl on a swing in a suburban park with sparkling green eyes, laughing features and tousled dark hair was clearly enjoying herself.

"Rose Stewart-Wade. She's the daughter of Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart. I've only recently resumed contact with these two good friends of mine as I wanted to. It so happened that she was struggling with her maths at school and she was being given a hard time by an unsympathetic teacher. I stepped into the breach and gave her some private coaching," John explained to her daughter after she turned around to face him and directed a enquiring gaze at him..

"Would it be true to say that you also had a hand in her coming into the world dad?" Charlie asked ever so gently.

A look of fear shot into John's eyes. he hadn't ever put it into words in his inmost thoughts but he feared that Charlie would be jealous and insecure if this secret came out.

"Don't get me wrong dad. I guess you did this unselfish deed to give your friends a chance of motherhood," she added hastily.

"that's just it. That's why I stayed out of their way to give them this chance, Now I know that Rose is a remarkable child, her own person already even though she's getting a uniquely good upbringing. I'd never want to be possessive- it would spoil things completely."

Charlie knew that the way her father shot out these words in a random stream of consciousness meant that he was speaking the absolute truth. He'd done absolutely the right thing but he desperately needed to be reassured.

"Dad don't worry. This is one of the best thing you've done in your personal life as well as being Spiderman in your public life. The last thing you need to worry about is that I'd be stupidly jealous of her. I feel secure enough about you so why should I monopolise your upbringing?"

John's look of sheer relief was very touching to Charlie. This was a very rare moment when she was being the strong one and he didn't mind this. If this was a harbinger of a change in their relationship, it was something that none of them minded in the least.

A similar family reunion too place as Karen's son Ross phoned her out of the blue in respectfully asking if it was all right to pop round and, oh yes, could he bring a friend as well. This prompted Karen's suspicion that there was more than met the eye.

"Of course Ross. Beth and I always enjoy your company. Any friend of yours is welcome here," Karen said with carefree assurance.

An hour or so on later, the buzzer to their flat rang on time and there before her stood her clean cut, fair-haired son. Next to him stood a dark-haired girl, dressed slightly conservatively and clearly of them had small suitcases on wheels.

"This is my friend Tina. My girlfriend actually," Ross stammered slightly, most unusually for him.

"We guessed as much. Don't worry, everything's all right," Karen said softly and gently. A sharp tap of heels announced the arrival of Karen's partner, Beth Pritchard who was dressed to the nines. It was in keeping with her that she grabbed at the slightest pretext to dress up yet never turned a hair if her partner dressed casually.

Tina was wide eyed as she first laid eyes on Ross's family. He had been prevailed upon to disclose this secret that was his mother's sexuality by the sheer idle turn of conversation as Tina was the only woman he felt close enough to confide in. She was stable, down to earth and accepting of others but there were limits as to her worldly wisdom. All the time she'd crossed London on the tube to meet Ross, she'd envisaged Ross's mother and partner to be somehow alien, to be other than herself and her straight friends. Quite what she would expect to confront was a hazy nothingness though she concealed her nervousness from Ross.

She couldn't believe what she saw when she came across this shapely vision in smart blue jeans, a long-sleeved casual top, long blond hair, deep blue eyes and classic cheekbones. Alongside her, a contrasting vision that had esceped from the nineteen thirties flapper era, complete with dark bob cut hair, managed to beat her for cool sophistication. All she could do was to extend a limp hand to shake hands and stumble out her name before brining in their luggage..

"Hey come in you two and take a seat. Great to see you Ross," the first woman offered in a husky but friendly voice. All she could think of doing was to go with the flow.

"I'd be kidding you to say that we've heard about you Tina as we and Ross pass like ships in the night. Now that you are here, we've got the chance to properly know each other,"Karen said with disarming frankness. She instantly decided she liked this woman's honesty.

"You've luckilyu managed to catch us both in the same place you guys. Karen's a ward sister in the local hospital and I'm a journalist," Beth observed cooly.

"Hey respect- for both of you,"Tina found he4rself saying more gauchely than she'd wanted. However, both women smiled approvingly for not pursuing the apparent glamour of the media. This girl had good taste and so the ice was broken. Beth rustled up tea and biscuits and Tina felt delightfully normal to be in this cosy domestic setting. She felt is was up to her to chat about herself so the two women knew her better and there developed a nice interplay of conversation. Ross was quietly jubilant that his girlfriend fitted in so well. In the past , he had separated out his friendships and girlfriends to keep them at one remove as he had thought it too wierd for his life outside home to confront his lesbian mother and her partner. Only because he'd been getting on so well with Tina being one relationship he hadn't messed up in his life had he vaulted through this severe hangup.

Time edged gradually on and they sampled some of Karen's home made cooking which added to his sense of normality. Despite Ross's ancient memories of his mother's periodic arguments with her partners, his most abiding memory was of her slaving away over Sunday dinner which created a fleeting sense of togetherness. Throughout his cildhood, happiness could come and go with no control over it as things happened without anyone's bidding.

Right at the end of the day, Karen quietly pulled Ross aside.

"You know you and Tina can take the spare bedroom if that's what you both want. It wouldn't be right to expect Tina to kip down on the sofa," Karen said in her most nonchalent fashion possible.

"You really mean it?" replied Ross quietly. He remembered how he'd been such a sponger and a pain in the backside during his student dropout days and how tough his mother could be. He also knew that Beth was unbreakably loyal to Karen, something his mother's previous partners had never been.

"We gather you're living together already so what's the problem? In any case Tina hasn't any problems with me and Beth so it's only natural," Karen replied with a cheerful smile.

Settling down last thing at night was an interesting experience as Ross watched with detached interest how his mother and Beth worked seamlessly round each other.

"I won't crowd your bathroom," offered Tina tentatively.

"Three women sharing a bathroom is a risky experience. If they don't clash like crazy, they'll really get along," joked Beth light-heartedly.

"The ultimate test," agreed Karen."Men don't count in the same way from what I remember. They leave the toilet seat up but that's all." Ross grinned at the truth of his mother's remark.

All this time, Beth had battened down her sexual desires while she chatted and socialised. This was one occasion when Karen wasn't on night shifts and Beth hadn't got an urgent deadline to work on. Once the two women slid between the sheets, Beth's amorousness overflowed in her movements around her lover. To her acute disappointment, Karen's body felt rigid to the touch.

"What's wrong babes?" she asked softly.

Karen let out a sigh of disappointment. It was a token of her frustration with herself. This wasn't what she wanted.

"It's not personal, believe me. It's that Ross is next door. I'm really sorry but I find it really inhibiting. The spirit is willing but..." she said in a disconsolate fashion.

Beth turned aroyund and lay on her back. Sexual disappointment very rarely happened to her and she wasn't used to it nor could she put it into words. Karen felt all the more guilty and one solution came to mind.

"It won't be great but there's no reason why you should miss out enjoying yourself darling," she said, turning to the slim shape her dark-haired lover, hardly visible in the gloom but silently calling for her fair share of slid her hand down Beth's flat stomach."There's only one thing,"

"And what's that?"Beth said, touched by her very considerate lover as she made her move.

"Scream quietly when you're having an orgasm darling," the husky voice articulated out of the gloom just as her fingers were stroking her centre. Beth laughed at that one.

In the meantime, John Wade made the final decision to resort to online dating and nervously, his fingers hovered over the keyboard in his flat. In the background, the political pundits were hotly debating the latest opinion polls as the General Election was imminent but John had turned the sound these years, he'd been a good brother to Nicola, a good uncle to Rose, a good man in his personal and private life. He needed a break from his loneliness and Nicola had urged him to give it a try once she'd told her of his predicament. He smiled as she apologised for knowing the wrong kind of women she might be able to introduce him to. That gave him the courage to press through this final barrier.

"It's really nice of you, mum, to put Tina and I up for the night," Ross said warmly. That night had worked out curiously satisfactorily although the situation of his mother and her parner next door was unusual to say the least. Meanwhile, the dark-haired girl suppressed a yawn while Beth blinked at her eyes.

"I hope you both had a comfortable night," Karen asked in mum tones.

"Oh yeah, the bedroom's ideal," Ross said hastily while Beth fine-tuned her conclusions. Karen opened the front door of their flat while she and Ross promised to keep in touch in future amidst farewell hugs.

That day, Karen had contrived to secure a day shift and exchange texts on their work in progress while Beth made sure her work was done and nothing else would be dumped on them. Finally, both of them rushed on home in record time.

"Time for some me time," Beth drawled as she opened her arms to receive her slightly tousle-haired lover into her arms. This night would see the basics attended to, eating a takeaway meals that wouldn't weigh too much on their stomachs. Early in the evening, they headed off to their bedroom and stripped off their clothes. Karen gestured to the bedside unit Beth's dide of their double bed and lay in a very come hither pose on the bed. In the meantime, a wide grin spread across Beth's face as she feasted her eyes on the blond woman's ample breasts and she slowly put on her dildo. Karen's pulses started racing as she thought of the long shape deep within her. Both women were trembling with desires which had flitted around at the back of their thoughts all day and finally their bodies met. As they kissed and felt each other furiously, Beth eased herself into Karen with confidence born of long intimacy and practice. Karen's repeated moans of pleasure at her lover's thrusts rose in pitch and intensity to exstatic shouts mingled with Beth's sounds of pleasure as they rocked backwards and forwards to a frantic orgasm that felt as if it would last forever. Both women knew that soon it would be Karen's turn to pleasure her lover.

"Do you like being made up to?" Karen asked as she lay in the nicely sweaty feel of completeness as her full lips nibbled and caressed her lover's. She loved the sensual feel of her legs wrapped round her lover and their bodies pressed up against each other. One soft double bed and a soul mate and genius female lover on top of her filled out the core of Karen's urgent needs and her dreams of life.

"Darling you are gorgeous but do you kinow something? I bet your son and girlfriend had a better night last night than we did," chuckled Beth as she softly kissed Karen's cheeks and eyes.

"It's interesting that we have our most meaningful conversations when we're in bed. Before I met you, it was always a time for the worst kind of meaningless bullshit that meant nothing," mused Karen out loud as the random thought struck her.

"That's a good tangent and eally true but you're getting off the point,"intervened Beth pertly, calling the conversation back to order. A slight smile spread across Karen's face at her lover's oh so gentle rebuke.

"So what do we say?" questioned Karen, reckoning that perhaps they could have their cake and eat it.

"You've proved you're a good mother as I've seen that side of you. That means you don't need to explain and apologise. Just don't make it obvious and they won't," said Beth pertly. This amused Karen but one thought struck her mind.

"One thought though. Tina had better be on the pill so she doesn't make my mistake," Karen answered as sombre memories of her own past briefly visited her.

"I totally forgot dear. Lesbians aren't in the habit of getting accidentally pregnant," she

riposted. This dry wit was something Karen loved so much about her lover and the way she softly pressed inside her as she spoke banished those memories. The tender kiss she gave Beth back in grateful thanks was longer and deeper than before as she knew that their desires would soon grow so it would soon be her own turn to ravish her lover.


	40. Chapter 40

John Deed was in a positive mood was mixed as he contemplated the impossible, inconceivable event that would scoop him up and embrace him with his good fortune, his forthcoming marriage to one Kristine Thorne. He'd discovered another facet of her organising mind as she had outlined practical details in her typically systematic fashion.

"Don't worry John. I'm not going to whisk you up the aisle only to take your manhood away from you five minutes after you've signed your life away. I know how proud and independent you are as I'm not a million miles different. I really want you to be as much involved as you feel comfortable with," Kristine said tenderly to him.

John kissed this woman of his and deeply loved and respected her brand of kind-hearted understanding that she chose not to put on public gave him a dynamism to prepare for the future and to consider all the foolishly romantic things like wedding outfits, his and hers, a suitable reception venue and invitation lists.

It was only as he headed off to the chambers while a large white hammerhead cloud formed up overhead when his mood started to shift. A blast of cold air smote him as he got out of his car and hurried up the flight of steps. When he reached his chambers, the perspective offered of the world outside had changed considerably. After he had studied a court file in a desultory fashion, his legs took him restlessly to where he had to go. He stared out of the window in his chambers while a sudden wash of blasted raindrops smashed at the windows and trailed themselves down the glass in profusion. Dark, turbulent clouds hovered overhead with threatening blurred edges at the perimeter while far in the distance, a ragged patch of blue sky let sunbeams illuminate a small portion of the town. It was all too symbolic of the mixture of his feelings right now.

"It's perhaps not my place to say but I do hope you're not in any trouble judge," Coope's soothing voice cut into his reverie. She'd been drawn from her work by his fixed stance and her study of his body language. For once, she got it wrong.

"Not me this time Coope. It's just that I'm beginning to fear for our collective future," John replied with a pale smile.

"You mean humanity in general, this country or something else," queried a bemused Coope. This intervention prompted John to get a greater purchase of his diiffused feelings.

"During this last thirteen years which comprises the length of this administration, I became a judge and got to see the establishment at closer quarters than I ever did as a barrister. I also came in from the cold so I wasn't considered an extremist conspiracy theorist by the rest of the brethren. I grew to loathe it, to study its modus operandi and combat it with all my energies and we've ended up with an undeclared armistice. I see a new breed of politicians waiting in the wings to take the place of Haughton and his cronies and, believe it or not, they could be more vicious and tyrannical than this lot. We could be fighting for our existence as never before."

"Surely not judge. It'll be like the changing of the guard. No one could be worse than this government," protested Coope. She thought that the man was being a bit overdramatic despite the real life dramas that had swirled round him.

"You think so Coope?"questioned John bitterly."You need to know your enemy. I've has a good look at the leader who could become our new Prime Minister. Beneath his superficial charm, he's a bully. I can smell that type a mile away. To make it worse, he's been in public relations just like Haughton. I've also studied his cohorts and there's a remarkable pattern. They're all Old Etonians and they're also millionaires. I suspect that if they got their hands on the instruments of state power, we're in for a really rough ride."

A flash of lightning briefly etched the contours of John's face in electric blue and a roll of thunder echoed its way to who knows where. Coope shivered inside as her imagination started to explore out from the bunkered down trenches.

"So just how bad could a government be judge? Abolish the NHS, bring back hanging and national service? Make Lawrence James and Ian Smithson take over courts and make you unemployed?"

"Don't talk so lightly Coope. I get the feeling that they've been scheming away for years ever since this government became a slow motion car crash waiting to happen. You can bet your bottom dollar that this lot aren't missing their chances. I don't know what they'll do but you mark my words."

"This is all very well judge but I hope you've talked to the future Kristine Deed about this. The two of you might not agree on everything but at least you shouldn't hold things back from each other so you can either agree or agree to disagree. Marriage shouldn't be entered into lightfully," Coope said in an animated fashion before self-consciousness overtook her and she coloured deeply."I'm sorry judge. I shouldn't have talked so freely."

This was one rare time when Rita Cooper, judge's personal assistant assumed a maternal role in her relationship with the magisterial John Deed, distinguished High Court judge whose red robes of offices and judge's throne might have set him on high over common mortals. Nevertheless, her precise memory filed this startling argument away for future use.

As it happens, George came sidling towards his chambers in the lunch recess, mischievously playing to the one man gallery comprising Lawrence James with his disapproving stare. It delighted her as she made her move to play the lesbian card for all it was worth being her drolly unorthodox version of Pride. In a good frame of mind, she curveted into his chambers only to be greeted by John's boring political dissertation.

"Me thinking about the General Election? Me watching party political broadcasts on TV/ You must be joking John or be seriously deranged. You're forgetting that I lived with Neil Haughton for longer than I care to think of. It's given me a lifelong allergic reaction to politics," she exclaimed in withering tones.

"You went with me and everyone else on a big antiwar march and you go regularly on Pride demonstrations or so I hear," John responded with misleading meekness, a ploy that George remembered from their marriage and spotted a mile away.

"I do all this because it's fun, John deed, and well you know it. You surely don't expect your lone prophet in the wilderness routine to be remotely in the same league," George countered forcefully to blow John's contrary mood into smithereens.

"Very well then George, what do you think of David Cameron as a human being," John's prompt rejoinder came back at her with an annoying resilience, conceding nothing toGeorge's thinking.

"God you're so infuriating. You'd better make sure you don't pull these same tricks on Kristine. From what I kmow of her, she'll tolerate it even less than I do," warned George.

John had the presence of mind to keep smiling brightly but saying nothing. With a wordless explosion of anger, George finally gave in.

"You really are the limit John and I know that some things don't change. I warn you that men haven't exactly been a speciality of mine for some years as well you know. I'm having to go back to my public school days to give you a proper answer. I remember going chaperoned to mixed dances as a special treat. This is important John. That age and occasion is when public school pupils are most exposed before the passage of years lacquers on layers of assumed personality," said George during which she stopped wagging her finger at him and finally drawing breath.

"Go on George. I'm really interested," John said. George knew that her friend was perfectly sincere in her sideways observations to help him know his enemy.

"They all struck me as pink-faced, boyish and with unbreakable self-confidence with any sharp corners knocked off and smoothed over. Either they come on as God's gift to women or else they'd burble on about such things as scrumming down on the ruggar pitch as if I'd be really fascinated. I loath the expression Hooray Henry but I must admit that it does sum them up. For my part, I was a typical public school girl and I dated some of them but only for amusement. They delivered less than they promised and none of them hold a light to Alice. At the time my perceptions were different than today but I did need to be romanced by someone with a bit of backbone. Needless to say, I never got it at that time," continued George with a soft glance at John as she remembered those far off days.

"So you're talking about a caste of emotional inadequates," a fascinated John responded leaning forward with interest."It may be the case that I got sucked into that world, that syndrome when I went to Oxford. It took Nikki and Helen to help free me of it."

"You let yourself get screwed up emotionally where relationships are concerned but, and I hate to admit it, your working class roots were the saving of you and made you both practical and an iconoclast. Public school boys have great self confidence to manage public affairs without the real knowledge to back it up. It's all bluff, all smoke and mirrors you see and they hate you for calling their bluff. Helen Stewart once described an ex-fiancee callwed Sean Parr as being 'weak but full of self-confidence.' I could picture the man in an instant, the same as Neil Haughton."

George's boldly painted pictorial thesis unveiled itself rapidly as she pulled in thoughts from all directions right out of her unconscious, from distilled essences of experiences and fragments of remembered conversations. She'd astonished herself as she drew to a close as she'd never thought about, far less questioned, her background up till now.

"So how typical is Cameron and his cronies. I must admit you've been uncommonly astute," he said in respectful tones.

"Don't flatter me John. Flattery will get you nowhere. well, of course, they're completely typical. How they relate to women is anybody's guess. I suspect that they won't want women around to spoil the boy's fun. Don't forget Cameron has a background in public relations just as Haughton made his pile in advertising. all smoke and mirrors as I say. They have their friends in the media to stop people from seeing that the emperor has no clothes. Cold hard reality is something else. The damage they could do to this country is too frightful to contemplate."

John was transfixed by the way George transformed from light-hearted mockery to a cold chill in her voice. It was obvious that this very intuitive woman had been speaking in tongues as it were with no premeditation but simply letting her thoughts run free.

In the evening, John finally left the court feeling depressed. After George had built up an inspired background psychological treatise on the ruling class, she backed off from the frightening implicatons by accusing him of being to single-mindedly earnest and, in any case, she had bigger fish to fry. Doing her share of less remunerative campaigning cases and her annual contribution to London Pride was the top limit of her ambitions, thank you very much. at that point, time was drawing nearer to the resumption of the trial they were both engaged in so they drew the discussion to a close.

"I asked Bobby Dylan

I asked the Beatles

I asked Timothy Leary

But he couldn't help me either

They call me the seeker

I've been searching low and high

I've gotta do what a man does

Till the day I die."

So sang the song out of John's car stereo as he drove away from the courtroom with a mixture of anguish and defiance. It summed up John's feelings but the answer was vague. George's reaction was no less principled as he knew that his friend had no answer to the dangers close at hand. furthermore, the thought that the class that she'd grown up with were traitors frightened vaguely remembered the friendly left wing journalist who had covered the judge's strike and demonstration agauinst the government but he'd lost touch ages ago. There was one friend he could talk to and that was Nikki wade. This cheered him right up as it was an easy matter to fix up a lunchtime meeting at the pub across the way from her place of work. It was the ideal rendezvous.

"Hey you guys, I'm going out to lunch to meet a guy," Nikki called out cheerily to one and all. as Paul armstrong looked at his friend with a broad grin on her face, she opted to elucidate her cryptic message.

"John Deed, the High court judge. He's good company at any time."

Nikki strolled out into the street and the summer sunshine to the local pub. She smiled briefly at the guy behind the bar, bought herself a half of lager and sat on the bar stool, glancing occasionally at the door. Fairl;y soon, the door opened up to reveal John Deed's spritely form. He grinned broadly and shook Nikki's hand. She bought in John's drink and they settled down for a pub snack.

"So is this just a social call John? You're welcome at any time but I sense something behind your casual phone call."

John laughed good-naturedly. Only a few of his circle of friends could read his mind and Nikki was one of them.

"There is actually. I've known you for a long time to be one of the most politically alert of all my friends. Tell me what you think of the General Election."

Nikki laughed bitterly. She certainly had a lot to say. She ran her thought back to 1997 when this government first came to power.

"Oh yeah, As if I really remember watching the news intently when this lot came to power. I got kind of distracted being dragged into the horrible nightmare of three years wrongful imprisonment in Larkhall Prison and had my name being dragged through the mud by the tabloid press, the same that nearly happened to Karen and could have happened to Helen. Aside from fighting impeerialist wars at taxpayers expense, going gaga about islamic terrorists and racking up the prison population to bursting point, they've done a bang up job. Oh yes, I forgot that we in the Howard League have worked our arses off sinking this ninety day law on holding in custody without charges. Helen's mathmatical mind reminded me that thirteen weeks is a quarter of a year of fifty two weeks. That times seven days in a week makes ninety one days of internment without trial. Peculiarly enough, it was the opposition parties who helped sink this legislation, the same major party that I instinctively hate and distrust. So where does that leave me and others like me?"

"You could always not vote, a plague on all your houses," John offered mildly.

"No that would never do John. I've been picking my dad's brains about my ancestors . One ancestor was a daredevil minor ace flying Sopwith Camels and another was a militant suffragette who rubbed shoulders with Sylvia Pankhurst. I guess fighting for causes goes in the family genes. I'd be haunted forever if I didn't vote."

"I might have known," laughed John appreciatively at his friend's modesty and her rueful manner."I suppose Helen's ancestry harks back to a soldier fighting with Robert the Bruce."

"I shouldn't wonder John. Sorry for my rant earlier on," acknowledged Nikki with a slight smile at John's highly probable speculation.

"It's of no matter. you haven't said anything I could possibly disagree with," ame the reply in easy tones. It sparked a question that had been lurking in Nikki's mind for a long time.

"How did it get this way John? Was there more of a level playing field years ago or were odds always stacked against the truthtellers? I mean I didn't have much of a grand perspective as i was scratching a living years ago and bumped up against the average homophobe in the street," Nikki asked John slowly, her big brown eyes appealing to John to make sense of it all.

"I suppose Margaret Thatcher has a lot to answer for. That to me seems the tipping point. when asked what her most enduring legacy was she said New Labour and for once she was right," said John as he ruminated on the shadows of the past. At that fell into silence. He feared to lose Nikki's attention if he rambled on about long ago battles, about a succession of names and dates that would only provide facts but not what it felt like. He knew Nikki was most sensitive to human feelings and now he felt he had a way in.

"I've heard you talk about Bodybag and I think I've bumped into her once years ago. She is your archetypal Thatcherite. She epitomises bigotry, ignorance and venomous dislike and fear of the unconventional. You and I and many more are her natural enemies and we're pretty tradional in our way as we really believe in fairness, freethinking and concerned to do the right thing. At a critical election in 1979, they took over the running of the land and set out to defeat the forces of opposition.. You must notice also that bullies and sneaks work hand in hand and too many people don't look further than the ends of their noses and look after number one. Remember that she said that 'there's no such thing as society' yet she is exactly the person who Dr Johnson described that patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel. No journalist to my knowledge pointed out that astonishing contradiction."

As John rounded into his conclusion in his carrying voice, Nikki broke into a spontaneous round of applause. Some others in the pub looked irritated as John's voice was cutting through the excited sports commentary on the latest football match and others carried on sipping at their pints engaged with their own conversations..

"We'll both get chucked out if we don't watch it. we're too dangerous. It explains everything," Nikki grinned to her close friend. She drew him into a quiet alcove .

"Well, where was I and what was I doing all these years?" John asked of himself as the question in his mind couldn't be avoided in self accusing tones." I was pursuing both my career and various women I shouldn't have been entangled with? Why I was allowed to become successful God only knows. Perhaps they initially found me useful not knowing how dangerous I could be."

"You've been the one guy I was destined to meet, me and my knows, you've done so much good in your life," Nikki said in her warmest, most admiring tones. She knew that they both felt helpless to turn back the course of future events including the result of the general election but a stand had to be taken in the broad stream of history.

"Take a good look around you, Nikki. You see people out on their personal business. You never know, the odd one or two might have been on the same antiwar march, or stood up to the workplace bully or simply done their best to bring up their child. Those who strut about the public stage only seem to matter as people acquiesce to them. The question is just how long will people like them and us put up with these apparachtiks before rising up against them? They already know that the general election is one big circus and dissent no longer exists in parliament any more."

"So what do we do John?" Nikki asked, impressed by this psycho-historical exposition. It put a lot of pieces together in her mind.

"We keep on keeping on Nikki. What else can we do?" John said with a sense of sweeping finality. Both of them knew that they'd got friends out there and others unconnected with them who felt the same. Just because history books weren't documenting them didn't mean they didn't exist.


	41. Chapter 41

The evening of Saturday August 6th 2011 was a typical club night for Trisha and Sally as the club pumped out its usual honey coated rhythms and melodies. Amidst flashing coloured lights, ladies were swaying in love with life and to in time with the wondrous silky vision opposite her, either a new conquest for the night or else life's companion. Business was looking up which might be down to the second occasion they'd organised a Chix float for London pride which was also a pleasurable experience in itself. The party carried on late into the night until bedtime gradually called and taxis were booked to take them home. A laughing George held Alice's hand as they said goodnight to their friends, skipped out of the club doors and hopped into the black London cab. They were mildly intoxicated and pleasurably tired and collapsed on the back seat. They were ready for home after a night out. Through the glass, the static from the cab's radio control buzzed inaudibly and the cab driver turned around to half face them.

"You're not looking to go anywhere near Tottenham. There's some trouble kicking off if you know what I mean. Police have been called in or so I hear."

"Do we look as if we're going near Tottenham? Chelsea's more our destination," countered George, laughing at the very idea.

"Well, just so as you know," the cab driver replied in his broad Cockney accent. Alice pressed her hand on her lover's delicate fingers to be more conciliatory. Between Monday and Friday, she was instantly alert to all sorts of possibilities. On this night especially in the weekend, all she wanted was to get home and curled up with her lover in their cosy double bed. Alcohol made her and George especially affectionate and she opted against getting out her Blackberry and scanning the net.

In the meantime, Nikki and Helen were at home together having a chill out evening after settling Rose down to bed. They hadn't felt like going out and Rose was happy to monopolise their company. The living room had got a little warm and stuffy so that they were aimlessly wondering what to watch.

"Oh hell, there's nothing else on so let's see what's on the news. it's an old habit that's hard to kick," Nikki declaimed scornfully as she stretched her long legs out on the stool they shared. helen clicked on the remote control with a bored gesture. Sure enough, the portentious music came on and the sight of some blonde TV presenter filled the screen to give them a run down of news items which cut to pictures of city streets showed two fires. This made the two two women sat bolt upright.

The woman was announcing that "Police are calling for calm in North Tottenham where a tense standoff is taking place. Two police cars, a bus were set on fire and there are widespread reports of looting..."

The TV screen cut to a view of a wide street lined by police vans while cold blue lights rotated and flashed. The picture cut to images of orange flames crawling all over and inside an etched image of a double decker London bus and then to images of a number of youths throwing rocks at a stationary police car and all the time an offscreen man was and answering questions from the announcer.

"The situation is still very volatile...I can see smoke rising and there are a lot of people in the street...are people surprised that this has kicked off in this way? A 29 year old man Mark Duggan was shot by the police in circumstances that are unclear- protests began locally with a 0ne hundred strong march to the police station but tensions boiled over into violence...there is anger against the police...have there been any statements from the police? Not yet as there is an ongoing situation with missiles being thrown at a police van... Why were people marching? There is a deep sense of grievance and petrol bombs are being assembled...This won't do London's image any good as central London has seen student and trade union protests turn ugly...

At that point, Helen clicked off the TV with a shaking hand. Both women were overtaken by horror visions. The TV screen hadn't got power over them as they immediately picked out unanswered questions that the glib second rate journalist had glossed over.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking," Helen said in chilled tones, staring into space.

"You're the police chief assuming responsibility for those police who may well have messed up bigtime earlier on just like when you were acting Goving Governor and Bodybag covered up for those screws who did over Femi with size nine boots," Nikki answered in ominous tones. Her eyesight was staring through the walls of their home out onto the streets.

"And if we hadn't used our brains when we were on oppisite sides of the barricades through force of circumstances, the prison riot that trashed G Wing could have been carried onto the rooftops and spread to the other wings," said a white-faced Helen in grim tones, clutching onto the sofa arm.

"And there's probably some of Maxi Purvis's lot out there on the streets and God knows where this could end," observed Nikki.

"So what led to the shooting? Why was there a demonstration and what was its mood? What did the police do afterwards including the meeting with the demonstrators and why did things kick off?" questioned Helen sounding every inch the campaigning Wing Governor of old.

As the tense silence fell on the room and failed to provide answers, she reckoned something else had to be done like they always did. She put her arm round Nikki's shoulders and only then did the dark-haired woman turn to her and smile. Both women embraced each other as much to comfort each other as anything.

"OK darling so what do we do now?" Nikki said with a soft smile before kissing her soulmate deeply and affectionately.

When the phone rang, Roisin jumped a mile within her skin- this was the last straw. The ten o clock news had completely scrambled hers and Cassie's wits so that they felt both angry and helpless at the same time. Their first thought were why had these kids' parents failed them so badly so they were out on the streets to cause mayhem on TV. It offended Roisin's dormant traditional morals in particular that these kids were trashing other people's neighbourhoods. Both women feared that this summer madness could spread and wreck all that she and Cassie had built up and the fair-haired woman was cursing openly, vocalising her feelings for the decent majority. Michael and Niamh were still up, both wide-eyed with fear. Their bedtime was later than Rose's and their parent's fears were contagious.

"Hey Roisin, take it easy," she heard Nikki's infinitely soothing manner down the phone, responding to her panic-stricken greeting."This neck of the woods is peaceful enough- it's hardly inner city ghetto. The nearest to gangs on the street are local kids bored out of their brains like the kind Michael used to hang out with."

Noisin pulled herself together. She knew what they had to do.

"We hate to impose on you at this time of night but could we come round and talk? We can't settle down on our own. The kids are still up," Roisin confessed, getting beyond the embarrassment point of admitting failure.

"Of course Roisin. Rose is asleep so we have to be quiet, People on their own are vulnerable but when we're all together, we can get somewhere," she heard Nikki reply. That was Nikki all over, the Irishwoman thought to herself fondly. As her mind settled down, she started to wonder about how two butch but soft hearted female coppers, Ros and Jenny, were getting on. She and Cassie had met them a number of times at Chix in their off duty affectionate selves. She remembered how the music turned soft and slow, Ros took Jenny's hand and they warmly embraced and kissed each other, lost in a world of their own.

Right now, PC Farmer was wearing protective all encompassing black riot gear, complete with black helmet and visor. She was out on Tottenham High Street which was littered with bricks while a police helicopter loudly clattered its blades overhead, shining a white beam down on the crowd. She breathed in thick, acrid fumes from the burning house nearby. Her one consoling thought was the safety of her mates around and in particular, he partner PC Slater, whose muffled dark shape was at her side. They were stationed as backup to the lads in the front row, equipped with riot shiels which deflected a rain of solid objects which were projected straight at them. This was madness, she sighed.

Only the day before, she'd been out with her partner to a domestic incident at a house on this estate. A black guy was still mouthing off when she forced her way into the living room while a hysterical white woman, hair askew and face bruised was trying to comfort some poor kid who should have been in bed. She talked to them in her gruff but understanding manner so it turned out that charges weren't pressed. Her sympathetic observation that this family hadn't two pennies to rub together was backed up by the ominous sheaf of official looking letters wedged on the mantlepiece. As she drove through town, she couldn't help but notice the spread of charity shops and modern variation in pawn shops which told her that times were getting hard. On the other hand, these were cheek by jowl with stores selling all kind of consumer goods like plasma TVs and the latest trainers

PC Farmer signified returning to the here and now with a shake of her head as she saw the rioters in the far distance. This was no static warfare though as people came and went in the murk. All at once, a youth suddenly came close, carrying a looted grey TV a little way from his friends. He was dressed in the classic grey zip-up top and combat type trousers.

"Let's get him PC Slater," she called out. The snatch squad laid their hand on the lad despite a brick sailing past PC Farmer's helmet and he promptly dropped the TV. Nevertheless, they had him and the TV secure and he was dispatched in short order to the white pickup van and bundled inside

Right at the end of her shift, she stripped off her sweaty riot gear and did her best to turn herself temporarily back into normality again and look out for her partner. She heard down the station that riots had broken out elsewhere and she was surely the start of a nightmare she couldn't back out of.

. .

In the meantime, the consequences of the riots were rippling outwards with a horrific inevitability in an interconnected fashion .

Karen and Jane had danced away Saturday night at Chix with their partners along with the other women as they weren't rostered for Sunday. They were both dead to the world early in the following morning so both of them reached out slowly to the phone. A voice frantically called on them to work urgent overtime as there was an emergency.

"What the hell's happened?" was the bemused response as they blinked their weary eyes open. Beth got the message and switched on her blackberry which indicated a few works e-mails nestling in her in box. Jo Mills stumbled to the TV to check out the news to find the same answer.

"Oh shit, this is something I always feared might happen. All this austerity, tightening our belts and 'we're all in it together' has seen the recession get worse. I understand all this anger but it's turned ugly and a lot of innocent people will get hurt. The political section on the Independent will have a field day," Beth complained loudly.

"Which is where Jane and I come in," Karen said grimly as she whipped on her clothes."we're going to get the lot, policemen, passers by, anyone caught up in the horrors. I'll phone you when I know where this is heading babes," Karen concluded, giving Beth a hasty kiss that she wasn't being neglected.

Jane said pretty much the same to Jo Mills who had been pretty quiet. The blond haired party girl was transformed into a dedicated professional who knew her duty.

Down at St. Mary's, all spare resources were piled into accident and emergency as injured people were brought in on ambulances, some having to wait on trolleys while frantic assessments of priorities were made. all injured people were the same to the doctors and nurses who slaved through the caseload and dressed injuries and burns of all descriptions.

While Jo Mills got dressed at a more leisurely pace to peruse the latest court brief, she was starting to wonder what the legal fallout would be if the government saw this as a half-conscious political insurrection.

****.

On Saturday night, John Wade was at home on standy as duty solicitor, a career option that claire Walker had approved of to round out his experience. It gave him closer insight into the workings of the police. he became a familiar face with the local Larkhall police. He hit it off with DI Martin who was fair in her dealings and expected the police under her charge to do likewise. He became as much at home in the dingy interview rooms as he was in court. He came across all kinds of petty criminals and his job was to ensure they got a fair shake.

Saturday August 6th 2011 was no different when he picked up the usual phone call.

"Mr Wade, you're due out at Tottenham Police Station. Sorry if this is out of the way but there's a big affray over there and I'm phoning your colleagues. I've had it cleared to take the flak if anything happens on our doorstep. I'll get them to phone you on your mobile to give you directions for the safe way in. Sorry for the inconvenience but needs must."

Mystified, John set the Satnav for directions through the backstreets and drove off into the darkness. He started to get alarmed when he smelt burning and saw patches of fire and swirls of smoke obscure the starlit night. At that point, his mobile bleeped and the woman on the phone directed him to turn right past the police roadblock that blocked further progress. Sure enough, he found himself on the high street leading up to the police station. As he got out of his car, he almost tripped over a brick lying in the road.

When John got inside and blinked his eyes, he was shocked as this was like no police station he'd ever seen. The harsh striplighting illuminated a number of youths of various race and sex, all of whom were dishevelled and bewildered at the proceedings. Every so often, the next one was called to spare space to be briefly questioned by a tired policeman, a statement was signed to be led off down the white tiled corridor.

"Hey wait a minute. Shouldn't I get the chance to be introduced to my client?" John asked as the next youth was summoned. John could see that any fight in them had been knocked out of them by this ominously efficient processing.

"We've got some of your colleagues using spare rooms we've opened up, sir. You can take your pick. it's all the same to us," the duty sergeant said with no emotion.

This was an impossible situation, John instantly decided. This was way outside his experience of the due process in law and it felt like an unreal dream. He dived in as best as he could but charges were laid but the youths were charged and held anyway. His only contribution was to ensure they had some idea of what was happening so as not to sign his final freedom away.

As he borrowed a glass of water for his dry throat, he made a mental note to phone up his sister Nicola. He knew he needed extra muscle to ensure justice was done.

He also knew he was in for a very long night and needed to figure out the bigger picture.


	42. Chapter 42

Sunday was a fragmented, tense day for all of the collective of friends, spread out as they all were across London. Their instinct was to try and act normally and spend the day cleaning and hoovering just as they did in catching up with the normal week at work and contemplating the week ahead.

"Don't forget your homework kids," Cassie called out to Michael and Niamh who were aged fifteen and twelve respectively. Being further advanced in senior school, it meant that homework claimed a greater share of their spare time than before. The two children groaned at their mothers but they were imbued with their mother's work ethic. They had to study hard if they wanted to get somewhere in life. Besides, their mothers were busy cooking up their favourite Sunday dinner and that compensated for a lot.

""We've got Monday night to get ready for. I know it's our quiet night but the ladies will come on out and enjoy themselves, riot or no riot," commented Trisha to Sally-Anne as she brushed her long fair hair in front of the mirror.

"It's wierd that last Saturday night went so well despite things kicking off. Ah well, I remember reading that in the last war the Windmill Threate's slogan was 'we never closed," Sally-Anne replied. Their bedroom was soft and feminine and was the centre of their world and the club was what they did in holding regular parties. It was a matter of pride that there was still a hard core group of women who were also friends who still made the scene no matter how much most of them had settled down into cosy dosesticity.

"A version of that was "we never clothed,'" laughed Trisha light-heartedly.

However, George was getting tense about the matter as she had a gut feeling that worse was in store. She'd flicked through the news and reckoned that everything wasn't under control although the media prestended otherwise.

"I don't want to talk about it Alice. A woman or man should be able to walk down the street without some riot going on. There's no excuse for violence."

"I don't like it either," Alice said with restrained calm,."but that's not the end of the matter. The last few years have made my job tougher. The government talks about Broken Britain but youth centres are being closed due to government's cuts. The councils are cutting what they call soft targets and that means everything that helps out the families I deal with. Taking away Education Maintenance Allowance and tripling university fees doesn't give much hope for the future for those on the bottom rung of society."

"Hmm, there may be something in what you say but I wouldn't rely on many people having your kind of understanding. A lot of people would want to wring the rioter's necks especially if their livelihood's been destroyed. Imagine what Trisha and Sally-Anne woulds think if it happened to them," George said thoughtfully, an idea which gave Alice an alarming pause for thought. Chix had been part of her life for so many years.

"You're right. we should change the subject," Alice said fervently, opening out her arms to George.

"Shit" Nikki exclaimed on Monday night as she turned on the television and saw images of a large furniture building in Croydon being consumed by flames. She hardly heard what the BBC commentator was saying as words were battering round inside her head and her senses were getting to overload-

"...custody cells now full- questions asked over police tactics and ability to protect property. ...after a peaceful protest on Saturday, 525 people arrested- this is what happens when fear of the police evaporates- the mobs were feral-unabashed and this has spread across London- Police asked parents to take responsibility for their childen-possible curfew to be in force... "

It didn't get any better when the news switched to an image of the Prime Minister filmed with his face full of anger as he pontificated about "sickening scenes of people looting, vandalising, thieving, robbing" and telling rioters "You will feel the full force of the law. And if you are old enough to commit these crimes, you are old enough to face the punishment..."

"Aaaah," Nikki started to scream as she pressed her hands to her man looked like every hateful man she'd ever encountered, DS Gossard ...Fenneer and she couldn't take any more. Helen's face was full of horror as she instantly grabbed Nikki's hand that held the remote control and switched the TV off. She clung on to Nikki and turned to face their daughter Rose who was white-faced really scared seeing both her mummies getting so upset..

"Come to mums Rose," Helen called out in her sweetest, most appealing tone as she thought of the one thing that would bring their family together again. Rose flung herself forward onto the settee and the three of them gradually stopped shivering with fear and they began to feel safer again.

"Mummies, why did those people riot? Aren't they happy? Why do people have to fight? Who's right and who's wrong. I'm really confused," Rose asked in her most appealing manner.

This was a poser for the two women. They were starting to feel mixed up, that right and wrong couldn't so easily be separated out. Both women were especially frightened that this loathsome complacent politician might have something of a case.

"I'm really sorry Rose for scaring you. Normal service from me has hopefully been resumed," Nikki said quietly in her droll fashion what went some way towards reassuring everyone, herself included.

"The only thing I can say is that so many people aren't getting what they should get out of life, a warm home, some spare money to spend. Smashing things up isn't the answer. Both of us believe strongly in reasoning with people, trying to get people to understand. Sometimes, it isn't as easy as it should be..." Helen started to say. The riots in Larkhall prison came irresistably to both women's mind and it was time for them to talk to Rose about this and trust that she'd be able to understand.

As conversation amongst the three of them started to peter out, they became aware of the soft glow of the sidelights and the peace and quiet in their home. It felt like heaven. Just then, the phone rang. With an irritated gesture, Nikki grabbed the phone. To her intense relief, it was Paul's calm easy tone of voice on the line.

"Hey Nikki, I didn't want to disturb but I take it you've seen the news?"

"We've just had a collective nervous breakdown over it. Nothing major you see," joked Nikki which made the two others smile slightly..

"Yeah, just to get the facts right, riots have broken out in Battersea, Brixton, Bromley, Camden, Chingford Mount, Croydon, Ealing, East Ham, Harrow, Lewisham, Peckham, Stratford, Waltham Forest, Woolwich,Woodgreen and last but not least Hackney."

"Oh Jesus, not our place of work? I mean our office is in the quiet end of town and we look inconspicuous," Nikki offered.

"Look here Nikki, this is my decision. I'm not taking any chances but I'll set off early and pick you up. I'm not taking any chances of either of us being done over on our own. Just a precaution and we'll suss out the ground," Paul insisted in his quietly authoritative voice. Nikki politely agreed and signed off. This phone call helped her look to the future rather than withdraw into a self-protective bubble.

"I heard what Paul said. He's right. Where I work is in the posh end of town and I'll be OK. You're the one that might be going into the lion's den. You phone me tomorrow when you're at work and we'll make sure everything's all right," Helen said in firm tones. Coming after reliving their shared experiences at Larkhall prison, both of them felt a warm glow that the partnership and understanding that had evolved inside a circumscribed closed world of prison bars and locked cells still held good.

Just then the phone rang. It was Nikki's brother John and he started talking in his polite manner.

"Hi Nicola. I'm returning the call you tried to make on Sunday. I'm ever so sorry I couldn't answer but I was up all Saturday and some of Sunday as duty solicitor over the riots. I was called out to Tottenham police station. When I finally got home on Sunday, I was totally shattered so I phoned up Claire and she ordered me to go sick. What I went through that wweekend beggars description. Would you like to hear about it...?"

Nikki certainly was very interested indeed. Her brother was the ideal person to help get her head around what had been going on. Helen caught sight of her partrner's smile of satisfaction and knew that she was on the case.

Helen knew that this Tuesday wasn't going to be an easy day for her and her first worry was sounding convincing to Rose when she dropped her off at school that Nikki was going to be all right as their alert daughter had done her deetective work all right.

"You know what Nikki's like. Paul's with her as well. She's tough and immortal," she said in her most convincing manner and brightest smile. Fortunately, she rose to the occasion.

A minor nuisance was the predictable level of ignorant gossip about the riots especially as Nikki's brother had provided disquieting first hand evidence to the contrary. it reminded her of the ignorant talk of prisoners supposedly with TV in their cells having a cushy number. Sure enough, the loudest talker mouthing off about "thugs smashing shops and hauling off plasma TVs, video games, etc. are only interested in justice as they torch innocent peoples' homes. Forget rubber bullets and hoses, just get rid of these vermin." The fact that there was a certain element of truth in this remarks made it more difficult to deal with. Tony, bless him, kept quiet although she knew that it took him an effort to do so. Finally, as her nerves wwere wound tight, her mobile rang and she saw it was Nikki.

"Could all of you just keep quiet while I'm talking on the phone to my partner, Nikki. She's gone into Hackney where one of the riots took place. Time you got some work done," she called out, her voice carrying the length of the office and glaring down the room. Instantly, the office buzz shut up.

"Good news darling. I'm here with paul and everything's fine. There were sometricky moments but we got exemption due to my former bad behaviour," Nikki said in her intensely relaxing voice with a touch of dry humour.

"Tell me more sweetheart. Tell me everything," she urged.

"Setting off felt wierd as if we were going into foreign territory even with Paul driving. It was strange as I was checking out my Blackberry for the latest news only when we came to the final stretch of the journey, we could see thin columns of smoke from the fires last night and a police roadblock stopping us going further. Till then, the whole thing had been a verval controversy cum TV news item. Just when we got close to the office, we were blocked off by a bunch of youths who started to crowd round. We sensed trouble as there wasn't a copper in sight.."

"Oh God," exclaimed Helen."I assumed it would be all quiet in the morning.I was dead wrong."

"The biggest and most threatening youth demanded straight off 'Who are you then' and I replied in my best BBC accent 'Actually, I'm Nikki Wade and this is Paul Armstrong. we work for the Howard League of Penal reform.' It did cross my mind that we should only have to account for ourself to the police."

"What happened then?it sounds bizarre," asked Helen.

"I was asked what I thought of the police and figured out that one false move and we'd really be in the shit. I told them that I take them as I find them and I know two lady coppers who are all right but I did time for killing a bastard copper with a broken bottle who was trying to rape my girlfriend. If I hadn't appeal my life sentence, I would still be behind bars and not here. I think I unconsciously reverted to my tough con voice," Nikki said as the drollness of her reply struck her. Helen laughed heartily. She could so envisage the scene.

"It really changed things. The leader of the gang said 'respect. OK we're letting you left Paul's car where we were stopped to show good faith and nonchalently strolled through the parted crowd, smiling and chatting as if we were royalty. It was a truly bizarre experience. It was just as well we dressed down in jeand and trainers. As I speak, Paul's car has still got its wheels on and isn't torched ," Nikki concluded in a nonchalent fashion. Curiously enough, she related to the youths like prisoners she'd chatted to in her new job except that this time, they called the shots.

Helen laughed with sheer relief. this was the first time that Nikki's spell in prison had worked to her advantage. What strange times they were living in, she thought.

The others in the office remained quiet and Helen resolved to phone Rose's school to pass word that Nikki was safe. Then she could get on with a proper day's work.

The week of the riots was a frustrating one for Beth. after Karen had been hoiked out of their home to work insane hours of overtime as St. Mary's took its share of riot casualties, Beth was left to stew over what she senses was coming their way. when Karen finally came home the first night, she was dead on her feet, staggering through the door to flop down on the settee. She gathered snippets from her partner and lover of the gruelling experiences of crisis planning of her nurses to deal with each patient in turn only to be shunted on for the next and mucking in herself wherever she could help.

"I tell you Beth, I'd love to get my hands on whoever started the riots- they've got a lot to account for. A lot of very angry people have done stupid and wicked things knocking seven bells out of people, let alone the burns. Just for once in life, I can't make sense of what happened. Still, I suppose we'll see a letter from the head of the NHS thanking us for sorting out the me4sds while he goes on to plan more cuts," she said before free-floating acid anger faded out as tiredness overtook her and she fell asleep in the settee. At the same time, Jane was telling a very puzzled and disturbed Jo Mills exactly the same kind of thing.

As Monday dawned while Karen dragged herself off to work, Beth felt an increasing amount of dread as she suspected that the TV and newspapers would reflected an amped up Disgusted of Tonbridge Wells verbal rampage- ironic metaphor she reflected. When she arrived at work, she was steaming mad to be quarentined in the arts section where politics was where the action was as never before. The problem was that there were too many timid and pedestrian journalists who looked fearfully over their shoulder at what the editor might think of them. She finally spent a lunchtime at the local pub chatting to the journalist who would write the key article, selling her smiles by the second to try and charm him into having some backbone. It was all so easy of her to have rattled off the article that should have been written.

She finally read the leading article in the Independent dated August 11th which argued that "the police handling looks to have been poor", and that there is "context of mistrust of the police here." It added that "it is spurious to draw a connection between that disaffection by the inner-city youth and specific outbreaks of violence of the sort we have seen in recent days" Further on, buried towards the end it stated that the Independent Police Complaints Committee admitted that Duggan did not open fire, stating, "It seems possible that we may have verbally led journalists to [wrongly] believe that shots were exchanged". The bullet that had lodged in an officer's radio is believed to have been an overpenetration, having passed through Duggan's body."

On Thursday night, Beth headed off home to spend the night in with Karen and vegate in front of the television with some romantic comedy DVD, anything that got herself as far as possible from the frustrations of the day.


	43. Chapter 43

John Deed had been likewise assaulted by images of dark violence and lurid flames all week which had invaded his television for the last week and had kept his counsel. Finally, on the Friday after the riots first started, he took himself into the heart of London by tube train to get the feel of life outside. Certainly, the tube was crowded but people looked workaday and ordinary. As the tube clattered through the dark, he gathered his preliminary thoughts together. Certainly the establishment were both frightened and vengeful. He knew that it boiled down to a fear of the mob which stretched back into history. It had adapted in the face of pressure to stave off rioters and looters in the past. It crossed his mind that women got the vote in stages partly as windows in Oxford street had been smashed, pillar boxes set on fire and an attack had been launched on the Houses of Parliament itself. These violent events had been softened by the soporophic effect of history writers.

He set off for a stroll round the City of London and the familiar hum of busy traffic was no different than before and neither were the hordes of people frantically rushing around their business. The familiar skyline was unchanged, the ancient and modern buildings competing for attention. Finally, the call of a newspaper seller in the street caught his attention and he recognised an old acquaintance. This was the radical activist who had helped him at the time he'd launched a judge's strike against Haughton's attempts to shackle the judiciary.

"Hi there. it's nice to see you again. Don't worry, I'm not on strike this time," he joked after crossing the busy street and heading in his direction.

"I remember you," he replied warmly as his capacious memory placed this unusual man in its context."How are you doing? You must buy a copy of this paper and read the truth about the London Riots."

"As opposed to the hang and flog them brigade. I need some mental fresh air."

"How's the feeling amongst the judges. At the least, you can't let the government push you around."

"Don't let your hopes get too high. I'll see what I can do but I promise nothing I can't deliver," John said in a downcast manner. He had read the way the wind was blowing.

With the copy of the radical newspaper under his arm, John strolled away back to the underground station to return to his chambers. He bought a couple of newspapers of differing political outlooks and slung them on the table in his chambers. Coope raised an eyebrow and John got there first.

"I'm conducting my own reserarch into the recent London Riots. I need to do this to clear my head before I start a day's cases," John declared boldly.

" 'These were not "riots. They had no political purpose and no origin in discontent or deprivation' so said the bold leaden typescript of the Daily Mail," quoted John.  
'Those apprehended by the police appear to me for the most part to be stragglers and losers, the slow runners and dimwits who were still on the scene when the constabulary eventually arrived. They are not the main actors. I have no sympathy for them, but the idea that the law is about to take a severe revenge on the culprits is laughable. Most of the culprits got away with it. My reluctant conclusion, that Britain is finished as a civil and civilised society, is unaltered. I suspect quite a few more people may now grasp this point, but the majority of our "intelligentsia" will continue to regard me as a "fascist" and my solutions to these problems as unthinkable. They will even accuse me - falsely - of believing that the 1950s were a "Golden Age" but I can promise them that they will soon look upon this decade as a "Golden Age" compared with what is coming. Yet they cheer on the introduction of plastic bullets and water cannon to our streets, a terrible admission of defeat and a further step down the dark staircase to the strong state and the end of liberty."

 _"_ Ha, the Daily Telegraph has a unique spin on life," declaimed John. 'It suggested that moral decay is just as bad at the top of society as it is at the bottom, with the rich and powerful generating anger among the British population. He cited the MPs expense scandal, banker's bonuses , and the phone hacking scandal as setting poor examples."

"What do I see in the depths of the Financial Times?" John said, shaking his head in wonder."Here is a cartoon depicting a Union Flag being broken through by a looter in a hoodie carrying a stolen box of Adidas trainers, preceded by two men in suits carrying piles of cash, one saying "MP's Expenses" and another "Banker's Bonus."

Finally, he turned to the paper he'd just bought from his friend. It said "Britain is already less equal that at any time since the 1930s. While many of those who left school last month face a future without hope, the combined fortunes of the 1,000 richest people in Britain rose £60 billion in 2011 to nearly £400 billion. The £81 billion of cuts decreed by David Cameron's government will mean hundreds of thousands of job losses, devastated communities and services destroyed. At some point people pushed to the wall will turn and fight back. That is what is happening now, just as it did during Margaret Thatcher's reign in the 1980s, the great slump of the 1930s and the great depression of the 1880's, all periods which saw riots in Britain. Riots are an expression of anger, as Martin Luther King said, they are "the language of the unheard."

He mulled his ideas over and he thought of one Elizabeth Pritchard and how she might be faring in the newspaper jungle as he knew she was as good hearted and spirited as anyone.

As the week went on, Trisha and Sally-Anne couldn't help but notice that club takings had dropped this week and the crowds on the dance floor had thinned out and had lost their sparkle. It was easy enough to work out why. The riots had spread a pervasive fear of going out around London even though the club was out of the trouble areas.

Neither of them could believe what was happening around them. They could understand feelings of anger against injustice as Trisha could remember how it helped fuel early Pride marches before they became a celebratory parade. What angered them was the damage and destruction to innocent people.

"...we're getting our taxes back" said a young girl who was looting a sports shop-Croydon furniture store set on fire-3,0000 charged and 6 people dead-two police cars in tottenham set on fire-16,000 police drafted in from outside London on the 4th night-" or so the BBC news narrated from the flickering screen.

Suddenly, the TV screen went blank- Trisha had turned it off and had decided on action.

"i have it Sally. We'll give Friday night a special push and get all our friends and friends to come. We've not our internet site."

"So it comes down to me as computetr wizard. Very well, I'll do a coloured party lady logo that I saw on the back page of Diva. We'll head it 'Loving the freedom from fear. Come out tonight-RSVP.' A double meaning of love and defiance," Sally-Anne said slowly and pleasurably as the ideas started flowing.

"That is so good I can see it. Come over gorgeous," Trisha said, drawing her partner in for a long kissd. They'd spent too many evenings letting everything get to them. In a short while, the internet started buzzing and Karen and Beth opted to childmind for Rose, Michael and Niamh.

"If the rioters have got me more furious than anything, it's with taking up so much YV time with its gloom and doom," George said loudly as the gang were assembled round the table in the VIp room. Everyone was determinedly dressed up to the nines.

"Not now George. I thought you'd be out to enjoy yourself. Besides, I reckon this police operation was a rerun of the SUS laws in the eighties which didn't work then and the police mishandled the backlash.," Jo Mills responded smoothly.

"Now then you guys. If there isn't peace on the streets, at least have it in this club," intervened a laughing Helen giving a smiling Nikki a knowing look.

"Why are we having a political discussion when we could be dancing the blues away?" questioned Roisin with great precision.

"Good idea babes," laughed Jane with her long blond hair floating free and whose party instincts couldn't be denied.

She linked her fiancee's hand in her own and kissed her deeply. All knew that this gesture wasn't escapism but affirmation of their existence. They weren't on skid row but that didn't disqualify them from wanting something better out of their lives. George laughingly led the procession down the stairs dressed in her short golden dress and, as the conga line of happy laughing women reached the dance floor, two familiar figures came into view from the opposite direction. These were the dark-trousered white shirted Ros and Jenny.

"hi there, long time no see,"Jane called out in her friendly manner which cheered the two women right up. As they caught sight of Nikki followed by Helen, they looked a little worried, knowing their friends' politics.

"He Nikki, we come in peace. we need a break from trouble on the streets," Ros said with jaunty bravado, her palms raised.

"Hey, take it easy. We know you well enough to do your jobs right." "Let's put that all aside and come and join the party," Nikki and Helen said in quick succession.

Ros and Jenny came as close as they ever did for tears to come to their eyes. They'd slogged their guts out working long hours over the riots and they desperately wanted soft release. They hugged heir friends, being soft and glowing all over before slipping off into the dance crowd romantically smooching up against each other. The others looked round at each other, knowing as much as anyone that if they didn't agree on everything, such deep rooted friendship could never be denied.

Finally, on the night of Friday August 12th no more rioting took place and the streets were as quiet as they ever were so that the fires stopped burning. It didn't stop the instant analyses being made, the explanations and excuses and the politicians promised that they wouldn't leave the victims of crime in the lurch. The police continued to carry out a comprehensive investigation of witnesses and CCTV evidence and the dragnet stretched itself amongst the riot torn communities. During the week of the riots, John had spent more time sleeping at Kristine's flat and less time at the judges' digs. Her tender presence had kept him level.

"I've spent a lot of energy in researching, educating and pushing for prison education and reform. I really don't want all the prisons to be filled up to bursting point more so than they are already.I'm pretty angry at all the pointless destruction and my sympathies are with these victims. These youths should never have followed each other like sheep after those who started it all. I'm not sure that the man who was shot was exactly some kind of angel. the whole thing upsets me John," she urged softly and gently,"...but that's only me talking. You do what you need to do and say. I won't hold you back any more than you would do the same to me." at that moment, John loved Kristine all over again. It spurred him to talk to the brethren though a little voice at the back of his head was telling him that things wouldn't be easy.

As soon as John started to speak to monty, he noticed his friend's expression start to darken and a frown of displeasure appear on his face which told him he was getting nowhere. He suspected that Monty was, at heart a Tory anarchist who would readily fight against overbearing politicians but fear of the mob was a deep-seated primeval instinct.

"This won't do John. i hear that this Duggan was a pretty shady character and the police had to make a split-second judgment. The police might have mishandled the protest demonstration but there's a vicious gang culture and it jumped on the bandwaggon and got up to mayhem. I feel particularly sorry for the hard working people whose businesses were vandalised, robbed or destroyed. if I have anything to do with it, those thugs will be punished up to the maximum. they need punishing to make damn sure they learn the lesson not to cause trouble in the future. an example needs making of them," he growled in threatening tones.

"But surely Monty, prison is the university of crime. The last thing we need is foolish people or those in the wrong place in the wrong timeto spend months if not years to mix with hardened criminals if they have a grievance against being harshly treated," John reasoned persuasively. He hadn't talked with Nikki about the riots for nothing or absorbed a lot of what Kristine had to say about prison education.

"Come on John, they're not that innocent. Sometimes harsh lessons need to be taught and they'll have to take their medecine." John suppressed his anger that boiled up inside him as his friend pontificated arrogantly. Like lightning, he tried arguing his case from another angle.

"Time will tell the Government repackages the short, sharp shock mantra of the worst days of Margaret Thatcher, be it on its head. It'll lose face sooner or later as passions cool. What worries me is the juduciary publicly tieing itself to the government line and discredits itself. we could pay for this intemperance. It's the case of sentence in haste, repent at length through the Court of Appeal. I can see this one coming," John said trying to keep calm.

"I'll never agree with you John. Not for one minute. You're sounding like a wet liberal," Monty snorted derisively.

"Then let's agree to disagree on this matter. Don't ever think that I condone wrong doing and there's certainly been some here. if I had those before me who set fire to that Croydon furniture shop, I wouldn't hold back from inflicting punishment but it would be proportionate," John said with a quiet but steely determination.

"In that case, let's leave it at that John," Monty said in a more conciliatory tone of voice. He'd got his anger out of his system and knew he'd gone too far. In truth, he was sick of the whole thing.

As time went on, more and more stories floated out on the wind, good, bad and indifferent.

"The city councils of Manchester and Salford are reported to be investigating their powers for ways of evicting tenants if they, or their children, have been involved in violence or looting in their cities. The London Borough of Greenwich also stated on its website: "We shall seek the eviction of anyone living in council property if they are found to have been engaged in criminal acts."

"A woman who had not taken part in the riots received five months for receiving a pair of stolen shorts. The sentence was later reduced on appeal."

"A teenager was freed when prosecutors found evidence he had been wrongly charged with arson. While in prison, his own flat was burned down."

Judge Jackson stated that there is "an overwhelming obligation on sentencing courts to do what they can to ensure the protection of the public", that "the imposition of severe sentences, intended to provide both punishment and deterrence, must follow" and that "those who deliberately participate in disturbances of this magnitude, causing injury and damage and fear to even the most stout-hearted of citizens, and who individually commit further crimes during the course of the riots are committing aggravated crimes". The later appeal against this judgment was dismissed."

John took his place as a winger in some of these appeals and did his best to mitigate the worst of the damage done.

Time had passed on and Nikki turned her car once more to her place of work in Hackney on a pale autumn day. she was in a deflated mood as she'd had so many cross-cutting ideas going round in her head on the riots that she was sick of the whole thing.

The facts she'd compiled as of 15 August spoke for themselves. About 3,100 people had been arrested, of whom more than 1,000 had been charged while arrests, charges and court proceedings continued. Initially, courts sat for extended hours. There were a total 3,443 crimes across London linked to the disorder. Emergency calls on Monday night saw a 300% increase, from 5,400 normally to 20,800. Along with five deaths, at least 16 others were injured as a direct result of related violent acts. An estimated £200 million worth of property damage was incurred, and local economic activity was significantly compromised. One thing she knew for certain was that the prisons were getting jammed full to capacity once again so that they'd be like pressure cookers. The problems were obvious to anyone with half a brain and prison education was bound to suffer as Kristine confessed to her in discussions.

Where did she go from here she wondered? The question was just how critical the Howard League should be of the aftermath of the riots. She and Paul got their heads together and came up with several drafts of a statement. It wasn't easy just how to pitch it to cover all the nuances without pointing in all directions at the same time. Finally, they came up with this statement which they pitched in terms of some of the sentences being handed down in the courts.

Speaking in reaction to some of the sentences being handed down in the courts in relation to the riots and disturbances last week, the Director of Campaigns for the Howard League of Penal Reform said: "While it is understandable that the courts have been asked to treat the public disturbances as an aggravating factor, this should be balanced against a key principle of criminal justice, that of proportionality. The danger is that some of these sentences are disproportionate and indeed devalue our response to more serious crimes".

"We know the courts are swamped with cases, and handing down hurried and overly punitive sentences will only result in many criminal appeals, which will act as a further drag on the system. Beyond the impact on the courts, we have prisons which are already over-brimming and will struggle to manage this influx of people.

"Clearly people have committed serious offences and prison sentences shall be handed out. But more generally, we have doubled our prison population since the mid-1990s and seen tougher and tougher measures introduced each year, with an abundance of criminal justice legislation.

"Yet despite all this, the outcome of being 'tough on crime' was some of the worst street disturbances seen in decades. That alone tells us that the answers to our problems do not lie within the criminal justice system."

The two of them saw their final draft get dispatched into the realm of public affairs. It was the best they could do.

As Nikki drove home, she reflected on the fact that she and Helen had plenty to do as their daughter Rose was developing fast as their circle of friends childminded for her. Her mood was only down to work that caused some of her headaches.

"What have I achieved in my life Helen? Nikki asked disconsolately late one 'd settled Rose to bed and the time felt right to talk as they always had.

"Are you kidding? You've only help start a lesbian club that's still going and providing a home for women to be real. You nailed your degree and became Superwoman of G Wing, at least jointly with me. After getting a job when we came out, you got a better job in the Howard Leage where you helped get a great line in dissident speakers. You've helped raise a wonderful daughter who thinks the world of you and me. Oh yes, you are my one and only love. I mean, where does the list stop?" Helen replied with her broad grin and glinting eyes.

"All right," admitted Nikki a foolish grin spreading across her face as she admired the way her worthy partner stuck to the facts and threw sunlight into the dark corners of her mind."I suppose a lot has happened for the good. Things could be worse. It's just that nothing I've done in my life has ever been enough."

"It has in our private life," came Helen's sweet rejoinder."All the same, I agree that we're living in dangerous times. What's worse is that the gang of crooks in power shamelessly lie but there's opposition but not in parliament but people like John Deed and you and me and the rest of our friends. It isn't easy but it has to be done," Helen said, finishing with a determined set to her mouth.

"We've been getting more and more towards the big time," intervened Nikki dreamily with a faraway look in her eyes."First it was a corrupt prison officer on G Wing, then it was busting loose the court injustice of my imprisonment, then it was a whole series of injustices done to Sally-Anne, Karen and then you. Then we were accomplices to John Deed's fight in the legal system. We and our friends supported him on his picket line and marched with him against the war in Iraq. Then we sat back and raised our daughter to be individual and free of needless hangups..."

"...And now we've run up against the riots where it's not clear cut and that challenges our thinking as never before," Helen concluded insightfully. Nikki squeezed her lover's hand gratefully. she had cut to the heart of the matter in more ways than one.

"So what do you make of it darling? I've done most of the talking so far."

"This government is even more complacent and out of touch than the last lot- like a blown up version of Stubberfield. it's needed a good kick up the backside just as I needed it when that last riot kicked off when we were in Larkhall Prison. I've never entirely forgotten the time when those on high tried to nail me under the Official Act when I happened to be your partner and you'd written inconvenient truths about Larkhall Prison. That was downright criminal and out of all proportion, the same as some of these prison sentences. There's been a total collapse in moral authority in the establishment- the 'what can we get away with' culture that John Deed describes so well. That's so different from the way we were brought up to tell the truth and got rightfully punished if you break the rules. You look at MPs who fiddle expenses, banks who recklessly gambled with other people's money, control freak politicians who can't stand being disagreed with and lastly the hang them and flog them brigade who've had a field day recently. Ultimately, they brought everything on themselves. My problem is that I don't like one bit the people who got hurt and their property destroyed but haven't you got to ask yourself exactly what lit the spark?" Helen held forth in decisive tones, feeling their good friend's spiritual presence in the air.

"That's a good question. There's the obvious suspects at the shooting and at the demonstration set the spark but there was a hell of a lot of burnable material lying around. There's the machismo of the gang culture with not enough love in their hearts- like the Peckham Boot are howling inequalities in life and celebrity culture telling you you're incomplete without the right kind of trainers so those without money get hold of them illegally. It's easy enough for us to avoid these traps but will society learn?" Nikki said questioningly.

"Good question. We'll carry on doing our bit where we can but we need to look after each other and our own needs or we'll burn ourselves out. Anyway, enough of putting the world outside to rights,"answered Helen with her green eyes glowing with knowledge and love as she shifted the focus around. This conclusion made Nikki admire how mentally nimble her partner was now that they'd found peace.

"Your intelligence is really sexy. It always has been," murmured Nikki with that attractive lilt in her voice. It changed the atmosphere.

The two women turned to face each other and slipped into each other's arms. They felt very emotional. They'd loved and cared for each other for so long. Helen had born Nikki's baby who'd grown up to charm and amaze them. Helen looked into her lover's brown eyes, so deep she could drown in them as they looked unflinchingly at the world around her. Nikki looked into her lover's green eyes that could sparkle with humour yet spoke the truth of her passionate nature. The lights were turned down low and the air was warm and scented.

"Do you remember when we first kissed darling?"Nikki murmured softly, their foreheads touching.

"Sweetheart, I felt got at from all sides and you were my last and only refuge but I must have secretly wanted you which helped me go into your cell. Aside from fears of failing in my duty and facing my true sexuality, I never knew that another woman could kiss me so sweetly," Helen murmured back

They kissed each other slowly and softly all over again. With their shared love, they'd at least make a damn good try at saving the world..

THE END


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